200 Things I'm Not Allowed to Do at Hogwarts
by selenehekate
Summary: Now being REVAMPED! It's Fred and George's last year at Hogwarts, so naturally they want to break the rules... and get Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny involved! Their list of 200 things they shouldn't do, but will do anyway... Told in snippets, R&R!
1. Prologue

Hey everyone! I know you all probably thought this was an update, and I'm sorry to get your hopes up, but I wanted to announce that I'll be taking the chapters down and reposting them over the next few months. The reason that I'm doing this is because I feel like this story could really use a rewrite - not because it's _bad_, but because my writing style has evolved over the years. Don't worry, all of the "things" will still be the same, but some of them will be written a lot better... hopefully a lot funnier! I feel like I owe it to everyone to do this; I'm still absolutely blown away by the response that this story has gotten (619 reviews? Holy cow!), and I really want to make it the best that it can be!

In addition to that, I will be filtering in 50 new things! Yes, this story will be getting bigger, and will have more chapters, but the new things will be threaded throughout the original chapters, so pay attention to those!

So starting tonight, I'll be redoing and posting probably the prologue and the first chapter. After that, I'll probably post the next chapter every three days or so until everything is up. Like I said, I really want to make this the best possible story that I can for you all, so thank you all for sticking with me! I really appreciate it!

-Selene

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny hurried down the center aisle of the Hogwarts Express, looking for an empty compartment call their own. School would start a few hours from then, and the end-of-summer blues were starting to take their toll on the foursome.

Ginny threw open the door of a compartment near the back of the train, only to find her brothers on the other side of the door. Their heads were bent towards each other over a piece of parchment as they whispered quickly to each other, their eyes gleaming.

"Sorry, but - oh. Hey Fred. George," Ginny said her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," Fred said innocently, giving the group a dazzling smile as George shoved the parchment behind his back.

"You haven't been gambling again, have you?" Ron asked as he placed his trunk in the overhead compartment. He turned to help Hermione with hers. "Mum and Dad will kill you if you have."

"Of course not, baby brother," Fred said, scoffing at the accusation. "Actually," he said glancing towards George. "I think you may be of some use to us..."

"Oh no!" Hermione was quick to cut in. "We most certainly do _not_ want to be involved in whatever lunatic plot you two have come up with-"

"Lunatic," George said with a frown. "Now you're hurting our feelings Hermione. It's not lunatic at all."

"It's actually quite brilliant," Fred added.

"Well of course _you'll_ say that," Hermione snapped. "It's your bloody plan! But whatever it is, it's bound to be dangerous-"

"Dangerous?" George said with a chuckle. "Give us a little bit of credit, Hermione."

"We aren't _stupid_, you know," Fred finished.

Hermione looked as though she wanted to argue, but Harry interrupted her with a sigh. "Well, go on then. What is it?"

Fred beamed, thrilled that they had taken the bait. "Seeing as this is our last year at Hogwarts," he began.

"We wanted to go out with a bang."

"And so we came up with a list."

"One hundred and fifty things we're not allowed to do at Hogwarts," the twins said in unison.

"What _kind _of list," Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why, naturally, it's a hundred and fifty rules we're going to break before the year is over," Fred explained.

"And we think it would be brilliant if you'd help us out."

Silence ensured as the Golden Trio exchanged wary glances, not exactly sure how to respond to that. The twins wanted their assistance in _breaking rules?_They'd never needed help with that before... For Ginny however, the answer was obvious. "I'm in," she said with a grin, high-fiving her brothers.

"Excellent!" The twins turned simultaneously towards the other Weasley child. "Ron? Harry? Hermione? What about you?"

"Break rules? Are you mad?" Hermione asked, shaking her head.

"Nothing _too_ bad," George coaxed. "Just a few small pranks."

"Something to light up the year with," Fred continued.

"You probably won't even be able to get a detention with this, let alone expelled."

Hermione snorted. "I highly doubt that."

"Come on, Hermione," George said, raising his eyebrows.

She bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. "No one will get hurt?" Hermione asked.

Fred shrugged. "There may be some mental scarring, but we doubt any physical pain will come from this game of ours."

"Do we get to play pranks on Malfoy?" Harry inquired.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"In that case," Ron laughed. "We're in!"

"Excellent, this is-"

"Hold on a moment!" The five celebrating teenagers turned to the killjoy of the group. Hermione stood straight, her eyes narrowed, as she quickly thought this through. Finally she sighed. "I suppose I'm in-"

"Yes!"

"But only because this is your last year here! Don't expect any more favors from me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," George said with a grin.

"There's just one catch," said Fred.

"I knew it," Hermione muttered.

"It's nothing bad," George said, holding up his hands in a stop-that-negative-thinking gesture.

"Just that we can't give you the entire list beforehand," Fred said.

"We'd like to keep the element of surprise, if you don't mind," George added.

"And we find that by giving people that much information, things tend to..." Fred exchanged a glance with George.

"Leak out," his twin finished for him.

"Fine," Ron said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "Where do we start?"

And just like that, the end-of-summer blues suddenly seemed so far away from these six plotting students, despite the fact that it existed throughout the rest of the train. It would be an interesting year.

* * *

Hey everyone! So here is the prologue of the newly revised 150 Things I'm Not Allowed to Do at Hogwarts! Updates should come every few days, so don't look so discouraged. To all of my new readers out there, I hope you enjoy this! Please review and tell me what your favorite prank is! And to my old readers, I hope you like this walk down memory lane.

Please review and tell me what you think!

-Selene


	2. Things 1 to 10

_1. I will not tell the first years, who are waiting to be sorted, that in order to be sorted, you must confess your deepest secrets aloud while wearing the hat._

Hermione Granger was nervous. She had every right to be, really. After all, it's not every day that she actively took part in rule breaking _for no good reason_. Truthfully, she had no idea _why_ she was doing this; what could be gained? But doing it she was, and so she sat in the Great Hall with Ron, Fred, Ginny, and Harry - waiting...

Her leg was jiggling with nerves, and she couldn't resist the odd glance back at the double doors every now and then. Ron rolled his eyes. "Would you relax? Everything is going to be fine."

"He's not back yet," she muttered, her eyes wide with worry. "He should be back by now."

"He's fine, Hermione."

"What if he's been caught? What if we're in trouble? What if-"

"Hermione, if you keep acting like we should be in trouble, then they'll catch us," Fred said with a roll of his eyes. "Just calm down. Relax. Everything will be just fine."

"But-"

Hermione was interrupted, however, as George slipped into a seat beside his twin. "You get it?" Fred asked, raising a brow.

"Easy," George said, dropping a wink.

Hermione, though, was still concerned. "But-"

She was cut off, however, as the double doors opened and McGonagall entered, leading the first years waiting to be sorted into the room. They paraded down the center aisle and up to the head table. McGonagall set the stool and the sorting hat down, and before long, she began calling out names. "Anderson, Maria."

A timid little Spanish girl stepped to the hat, reached up, placed it on her head, and - "I sleep with a nightlight!" she shrieked, much to the surprise of the crowd.

The rest of the hall burst out laughing, surprised by Maria's unnecessary admission. The hat declared her a Hufflepuff, though, so with pursed lips, McGonagall ignored her outcry and called up the next student, "Atticus, Carl."

One by one, the students went up, confessing secrets like stealing from their parents, bullying their siblings, and cheating on their girlfriends. "Cheating?" Ron scoffed. "With what? A bloody kiss? They're _eleven_."

"That's it!" McGonagall snapped, glaring at the first years. Mandy Klein had just admitted to breaking her brother's bicycle, and that was apparently enough for the Transfiguration professor. "What are you _doing_?"

"Being sorted," Mandy muttered, her cheeks turning red.

"_Why_ are you saying these... _things_?"

"Someone told us to," a brave boy from the lineup said, stepping forward. "He said that in order to be sorted into the correct house, we had to confess a deep secret while we were wearing the hat."

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "_Who_ told you such stupidity?"

The boy shrugged. "He said his name was Draco Malfoy."

* * *

_2. Staring a betting pool on the fate of this years DADA teacher is tasteless and tacky, not a clever money-making scheme._

Umbridge entered her classroom on the first day of classes to find her current students - the fifth years - all huddled around a desk, staring down at something. _Well_ _that certainly won't do_, Umbridge thought to herself. She hurried forward, broke into their circle, and snatched the paper away from them. A redhead boy protested, but she cut him off. "Now, now. We don't keep any secrets in this classroom," she said in her too sweet voice.

Glancing down, she began to read the parchment, and then she froze, her eyes growing wide.

_How will the curse take out Umbridge?_

_-Trampled by a Hippogriff: F & G Weasley_

_-Sacked: G Weasley, Patil, Patil, F & G Weasley, Granger_

_-Set on fire: Thomas, Finch-Fletchley, Longbottom_

_-Turns out to be one of Voldemort's Minions: R Weasley, Potter_

_-Poisoned: Lovegood, Jordan_

_-Death by Basilisk: Johnson, Bell, Abott_

_-Resignation: Granger, Brown, Spinnet_

_-Potions accident: Potter, Longbottom, Jordan_

_-Gruesome beheading: Jordan, F & G Weasley, G Weasley, Patil_

_-Murdered by Snape: R Weasley, Finnigan_

_-Other: Potter, R Weasley, Granger, Thomas, Lovegood, Bell, Spinnet, Jordan, Finnigan_

Umbridge looked up at the smiling students staring back at her, terror flowing through her body.

* * *

_3. Asking "When are we going to learn to saw a lady in half?" is not appropriate._

Ginny sat in the back of her first Transfiguration class of the year as McGonagall began her customary speech about turning in homework and studying for the exams. It was a terribly dull speech - sure, it had been rather intimidating the first time she'd heard it, but the _fourth _time? No, it was more annoying than anything.

"I expect nothing less than perfection from all of you," she said briskly, her voice coming out rough. "You're fourth years now. It's time to start paying attention and _studying._ It won't be long before your OWLs arrive, and then you must make a decision about your career paths. I suggest you start thinking about them now..." she trailed off as a hand shot into the air. McGonagall gave a sigh, but called on the girl anyway. It was Ginny Weasley, after all. How bad could it be? "Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"Professor, when are we going to learn how to saw a lady in half?"

McGonagall's eyebrows shot up. Apparently, it could be _very_ bad.

* * *

_4. I am not allowed to hand out red shirts to all of the DADA professors and say they are standard uniform._

Hermione took a deep breath, clutching the red collared shirt to her chest. She could do this. It was the beginning of the year - Umbridge wouldn't know her name yet. She wouldn't get in trouble. She could _do_ this!

With new resolve, she pushed through the door and strode quickly into Umbridge's classroom. The old toad looked up as she entered, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. "Yes, my dear?"

"Here you go, Professor," Hermione said, thrusting the shirt into the lady's arms.

Umbridge blinked, looking down at the shirt disdainfully. "Um... my dear, what is-"

"It's your uniform," Hermione said quickly, raising her chin. She hoped _desperately _that she looked confident. "All Defense teachers must wear them."

"I don't understand-"

"The red shirt means you're dispensable. As all of our Defense teachers are," Hermione said with a nod. Then she turned on her heel and hurried out of the room before a horror-stricken Umbridge could regain her composure.

* * *

_5. I will not hum the Darth Vader theme whenever Snape enters the room._

The door to the potions classroom _slammed_ open, and Snape swept into the room. His dark eyes were set straight ahead, a glare on his face. His robes billowed ominously behind him as he made his way to the front of the room, and a hush fell over his fifth year students as they prepared for their first potions class of the year-

_"Dun dun dun dun da-dun dun da-dun."_

Snape stopped, his eyes darting quickly to the sides. He searched for the culprit of the noise, but the moment he stopped walking, the humming stopped too. Cautiously, he began to move once more.

"_Dun dun dun dun da-dun dun da-dun."_

This time, however, Snape knew _exactly _where the noise was coming from. "Thirty points from Gryffindor _each_, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter. And if I hear your voices again today, I'll take thirty more."

* * *

_6. There is not now, nor has there ever been, a fifth house at Hogwarts, and I am not its founder._

"Step right up! One and all!"

"Come and join our new house: the Procro house!"

"It's for everyone! The tall!"

"The short!"

"The brave!"

"The cowardly!"

"The Gryffindors!"

"The... Well, it's not really for the Slytherins. It's for everyone _but_ the Slytherins."

"So if you're not a Slytherin, come on down!"

"You can_not_ create your own house," McGonagall said, snatching the flyers from Fred and George's hands. "That is _not_ allowed."

"But Professor," George protested. "We're trying to unite the school-"

"-under one house that has one unified goal!"

"Really? And what might that goal be?"

Fred and George exchanged glances and smiled. "Procrastination," they said together.

"No!"

* * *

_7. I will not tell Ron and Hermione to "get a room" whenever they start to fight._

"You can't just order them about, Ron!" Hermione said with a glare as the trio climbed a staircase on their way to Charms.

"They're _first years_, Hermione! It doesn't matter-"

"They're still people! Just because they're younger than us, that doesn't mean their feelings don't matter!"

"Would you two stop bickering please?" Harry muttered. "It's right annoying."

But his friends just ignored them. "I'm a prefect, Hermione. I have every right to tell the first years to go to bed-"

"_If_ they're out past curfew. But if they're just sitting in the common room playing exploding snap, then no you don't!"

"They were being loud!"

"It doesn't matter!"

"But-"

"No!"

"Hermione!"

"No!"

"I-"

"No!"

"Oh will you two just get a room already!" Harry shouted, before storming off in the direction of the classroom and leaving his two bewildered best friends behind.

* * *

_8. I will not teach first years how to play chicken with the Whomping Willow._

Ginny walked out to the front lawn one Saturday to find Fred and George sitting in the grass, staring off into the distance, and laughing hysterically. She raised an eyebrow. _This can't be good,_ she thought to herself as she made her way down to them. "What are you two doing?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Fred and George, however, did not cease their laughter. Instead, they pointed off to the right, where the Whomping Willow stood...

Ginny let out a groan, for there stood three idiot first year Gryffindors. They were all trying to get as close as possible to the Whomping Willow without getting hurt. "What did you do?"

"We taught them how to play chicken," Fred said with a life.

"It's quite amusing," George added.

As one first year got smacked from behind, however, all Ginny could do was shake her head. "Idiots."

Fred's brow furrowed. "Them or us?"

"Both."

* * *

_9. I will stop asking when we will learn to make "Love Potion Number Nine"._

"Professor, I have a question I need to ask you," Hermione said, swallowing slightly. It was one thing to pull one of Fred and George's joke on Umbridge, it was another thing entirely to do so to _Snape_.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly dreading her question. "What, Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath, suddenly grateful that she had waited until after class ended. "Are we going to learn how to make Potion Number Nine this year?"

Snape blinked, surprised. "What?"

"It's a love potion," she continued, a faint blush raising to her cheeks. _Great,_ she thought. _Now he's going to think I'm too pathetic to get a date on my own_. "Love Potion Number Nine."

To her surprise, however, Snape rolled his eyes. "I never would have pegged you as one to make jokes, Miss Granger."

She was taken aback by his lack of hostility. "What?"

"Love Potion Number Nine? The muggle song, yes? By the Clovers?"

"How did you-"

"I _did_ grow up in a muggle town, Miss Granger," Snape said with a shake of his head. "And you'd do well to remember that before you try any such prank again."

"Yes Professor," Hermione said, her voice raising an octave.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said. Then he shook his head. "I _should_ take off more than that, but it's not often muggle music is so _poorly_ quoted to me. I find it amusing." Then his eyes narrowed. "However I _won't_ find it amusing a second time. Is that clear?" She gave a quick nod. "Good. Now leave my sight."

* * *

_10. I will not scare the Arithmancy students with my Calculus book._

"What is it?"

"What's that squiggly line? We've never used that squiggly line!"

"Sin? What does sinning have to do with arithmancy?"

"I don't like this... Too many letters... There aren't supposed to be letters in this course, Granger!"

"It's not that bad," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. However her classmates continued to converse as though she hadn't spoken about the evils of her Calculus book.

"It has to go! We have to get rid of it."

"I say we burn it!"

"Whoa, now. Wait a minute-" Hermione protested. But it was too late. The angry arithmancy students were already tearing the book apart, throwing the pages in the air, and setting them ablaze. All Hermione could do was watch in horror. Her jaw tweaked as she glared at her classmates. "Fred and George owe me a new book," she muttered.

* * *

So here we go; the first official chapter of the rewrite is here! I hope you guys enjoy it! For all of the old fans out there, there's a new one this chapter - see if you can spot it!

Now which one was your favorite? I have to say, I really enjoyed writing numbers 6, 7, 9, and 10. What about you?

Thank you all for the reviews! They really do keep me writing, and I appreciate each and every one of them! Thank you!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	3. Things 11 to 20

_11. I will not say "I see dead people" whenever a ghost is in the room._

Harry Potter was an absolute mess, and his classmates were beginning to take notice. Never before had they seen the so-called savior of the wizarding world so out of sorts - it was all very disconcerting.

He couldn't help it, though. No matter where he went, he was distracted. On his way to potions class, Dean noticed his apprehension. In the Great Hall one morning, Colin spotted his nervousness. As Harry was climbing the stairs one afternoon, Neville spotted his distracted persona as Harry tripped over his own shoelace as he climbed the steps.

Finally that night, Dean and Neville decided to confront the boy. "Harry, what's wrong, mate? Why are you so... I don't know-" Dean started off.

But Harry interrupted him, his eyes wide with fear. "I can't say... It's much to frightening."

"Just spit it out, Harry," Neville whispered in awe. "We're here for you. Whatever it is-"

"You can't understand!"

"We can! You just have to trust us!"

"All right, then. Dean, Neville..." Harry said with a shake of his head. "I... I see dead people!"

* * *

_12. Polishing my wand in the common room is acceptable. "Polishing my wand" in the common room is not._

Katie Bell's eyes went wide as she read the flyer that lay in front of the portrait hall. Her hands began to shake as she picked it up, fear and bile racing through her. _No, no_, she thought to herself. _This can't be right. There has to be some sort of mistake._

But she couldn't understand how she could possible be mistaken. It was as plain as day on the flyer before her. She briefly shut her eyes before she glanced down at the paper again. It read:

_Wand polishing party in the common room at nine tonight! Boys only! Attire: as informal as can be. Bring only your wands and plenty of lubricant!_

"I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered. A phallic-shaped shadow rested in the upper right hand corner of the flyer. She wanted to just go back to the library - to wait until this "polishing party" was over - but curfew was quickly approaching. She had no choice. She had to go in.

Bracing herself, she pushed open the door to the common room, strode in - expecting the worst - and...

She stopped, her eyes wide. For there, sitting in a circle in the middle of the common room, sat seven Gryffindor boys... polishing their wands. _Literally._

"Hey, Katie," Fred called out with a grin. "How was the library?"

"Fine," she responded absentmindedly. "It was... fine. What are you doing?"

"We're polishing our wands," George said with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly, what does it _look_ like we're doing?"

"Something _vastly _different than what I thought you were doing," she muttered.

"Oh?" George said, raising an eyebrow.

"And what might that be?" Fred asked.

Katie quickly raised both her hands, waving them quickly before her. "Nothing! Nothing at all. Uh, I'm pretty tired, so I'll just... go, I guess," she said as she backed out of the room. Then she turned on her heel and hurried up the girl's tower, murmuring to herself about something "dirty" as Fred and George shared a grin.

* * *

_13. I'm not allowed to ask Draco Malfoy where he gets his hair done._

Ginny Weasley was sick and tired of waiting in line. It seemed as though she'd been in the bathroom queue that stretched out into the hallway forever, and she couldn't _stand_ waiting any longer. She had to _pee_, dammit! But no, no one would hurry. No one would move out of her way. Instead, the line was being obnoxiously held up as the idiot teenagers in front of her ogled some guy.

Not just any guy, though. It was Draco _bloody_ Malfoy.

Ginny absolutely _abhorred_ the attention that Hogwarts' unofficial man-whore was receiving at her expense. So, with a quick sigh, the seething redhead left her precious place in line and stalked over to Draco and the gaggle of girls before him, hoping to take him down a peg and scare him off so she could finally pee!

_Right,_ she thought to herself. _I'll go for the insult. Here we go. _"Malfoy," she called out, interrupting the flirtations in front of her. The girls in line began to mutter at her brazen move, but Ginny just ignored them.

"Weaslette," Malfoy sneered. "What do you want?"

"Listen," Ginny said, her voice taking on a deadly quiet tone. "I was thinking about dying my hair, and I was wondering where you get yours done. Could you give me the name of the place? They did such a good job making your hair look so unnatural. It's _exactly _what I'm going for."

Malfoy stared at her in shock, his eyes wide at her sudden audacity. He was a _Malfoy_! Weasley's didn't talk to _Malfoy's _that way! She was beneath him, dammit!

Ginny was, therefore, pretty surprised when Malfoy reached into his bag and pulled out his hair salon's business card.

* * *

_14. Yelling 'To infinity and BEYOND' was only funny the first time I took off on my broom_

It had finally arrived. D-day. The last stop on the train. All or nothing. Make it or break it. Time to step up. Time to play. He was in it to win it. This was his last chance. Go big or go home. The million-dollar match-up. The- Oh, screw it.

It was the day all the students had been waiting for. The day of Quidditch try-outs.

Ron took a deep breath as he mounted his broom. _Here we go_, he thought. In seconds he would know if he was good enough to replace Wood as Keeper. In seconds, his dreams would either be made or shattered. He let out his breath and cracked his neck as he mounted the broom.

As he took off, the stunned crowd in the stands heard him scream, "To infinity and BEYOND!" An awkward silence followed. Nobody really knew what to make of that.

* * *

_15. I am not allowed to enter Honeydukes and demand to see Willy Wonka._

Adam will never forget the day those insane, sugar-crazed Hogwarts students visited Hogsmeade. There the poor bag-boy was, shelving some delicious new treats in Honeydukes when the door suddenly opened with a _bang_!

Turning quickly, Adam had just enough time to see a boy of about fifteen storm through the door with two red-headed twins by his side, before said boy had grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed his back against the counter.

"Where," the boy said tersely, "s Willy Wonka?"

Adam stuttered, confused. "I don't know what you mean."

"Willy Wonka," one of the twins snapped. "The man who makes all the candy."

"Where is he?" the other twin asked. "We must see him, now!"

"I... I'm sorry," Adam said, shaking his head. "But I'm afraid I don't know-"

"Don't know!" the black haired boy shrieked, throwing up his hands and releasing his hold on Adam. "That is unacceptable! Do you know who I am?" he screamed, pointing to himself. "Do you?"

Customers were beginning to stare, slowly backing away from the three unstable teenagers. "Sir," Adam said meekly. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"NO!" Harry screamed, placing his hands on his hips in defiance. Adam blinked at the boy in surprise. "I'm not going anywhere until Willy Wonka makes the Oompa Loompas dance!"

* * *

_16. The next time that I see Rita Skeeter, I am not to threaten her with a can of Raid_

Hermione sat in the Leaky Caldron, anxiously awaiting for her two guests to show up. First to arrive was Harry, tailed by Fred and George as the twins laughed at their latest mishap. Hermione shook her head. She didn't want to know.

As the three boys slid into the booth and ordered drinks, Rita Skeeter arrived, her tight red dress not doing much for her figure. She scowled when she saw Hermione, and made her way over.

"Well," she finally said, sitting down by Harry. "What's this about?"

Hermione smiled angelically. "You're going to write a piece about Harry, and you're going to write exactly what we tell you. If you refuse, we're taking your little... secret to the ministry."

Skeeter pursed her lips, not liking the arrangement at all. Alas, she was powerless to argue. "Fine," she said reluctantly. "How much will you pay me?"

"Absolutely nothing," Fred said with a grin as Harry and George nodded along in agreement.

"_What_? That's _not_ going to work for me. Just why would I do this for free?" Rita asked, crossing her arms.

Hermione pulled a can of Raid out from under the table and aimed the nozzle at the journalist. Rita blinked in surprise. "Because if you don't, I'm going to poison your insect butt. Got it?"

The story appeared two days later.

* * *

17._ I am not allowed to call Hermione's hair a squirrel. _

"Hey, Hermione," Ron said as he caught up to his friend in the corridor.

"Oh, hey Ron! There you are. Listen, we need to go over a couple of things before the prefects meeting tonight," Hermione said as she shifted her books in her arms.

"Oh, do we have to?" Ron groaned. "It seems unnecessary to me."

"Irresponsible," Hermione muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Well, okay then," he said, an awkward silence engulfing them. Then, Ron smiled. "Your hair looks really nice today, Hermione," he said, glancing at her.

"Really? Well... thanks, Ron," Hermione said, a light blush forming over her features.

"Yeah, it doesn't look like a squirrel sleeping on top of your head anymore," Ron said with a laugh.

Hermione's mouth dropped open as she stopped walking, her eyes wide. "Merlin, I... You... Go to hell, Ron!"

Ron blinked. "What?"

"How _dare _you-"

"But it was a compliment!" Ron said weakly. "I didn't mean any harm! It's a good thing-"

"No," Hermione snapped. "No, that's _not_ a good thing."

"But-"

"Shut up!"

"Hermione-"

"_Shut up_!"

"Get a room!" Fred and George called out as they strolled past the arguing pair, laughing to themselves.

"I just can't believe Ron was actually thick enough to _say_ it," Fred muttered to George as they rounded the corner. "I thought for sure we'd have to do _that_ one ourselves." He and his twin started to laugh once more.

* * *

_18. "Quidditch Players Do It in the Air" T-shirts are not allowed._

"Step up!"

"Get them while they're hot!"

"Support your Gryffindor Quidditch team!"

"Buy a shirt!"

From behind them, Fred and George Weasley heard a loud sigh. Turning around as one, they saw McGonagall standing there, rubbing her temples as she looked down at the twins. "All right," she said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, Professor," Fred said innocently. "We're just trying to rally support for the big match this weekend."

"That's right, and T-shirts seem to be the way to do it," George added. "We've got to show our Gryffindor pride, after all."

McGonagall nodded to herself and turned as if to walk away, before sharply spinning around back to the twins. "What do they say?" she asked in a clipped tone.

The twins exchanged glances. So close... They turned the shirts they held around so their head of house could see them. The red shirts had a gold Gryffindor lion on the front, and beneath it, they said:

_Quidditch Players Do It In The Air!_

* * *

_19. I will not put books of muggle fairy tales in the history section of the library_

Professor Binns was shocked that so many people believed a poison apple was a powerful magical weapon, and he was even more surpised that his students were taking such an interest in fairies. Even more so, he didn't understand why they kept asking how they could apply to have a fairy as a godmother.

When an entire class of his first years failed a test on ancient werewolves - they collectively claimed that they blew down houses and ate grandmothers during the day! - that Professor Binns decided to take action.

Upon visiting Madam Prince to ask why that was, however, he found her lecturing Ginny Weasley about leaving her muggle books in the history section of the library. Professor Binns wasn't upset, though. He was just amazed his students were reading.

* * *

_20. I am not allowed to make lightsaber noises with my wand._

It was the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army. Harry was nervous about the beginning of his teaching career, and it didn't help that he had so many students watching him as if they expected, well, magic.

"Right," he began. "So, you might have to duel in the future... and, er... it's important that you know how to use your wand." He waved Ron forward, signaling that he wanted to duel him as a demonstration.

The two best friends stepped into the middle of the room, holding their wands at the ready. "So the most important thing..." Harry muttered as they bowed. "It's simple, really..." They looked at each other, concentration across both of the young boy's faces. And then the duel began. "_Schoom!"_

Eyebrows went up as Harry waved his wand around, sending absolutely _no_ spell towards Ron. "The most important thing is the sound effects." Harry said, waving his wand around again as Ron stared in surprise. "_Schoom!_ That way, _Sching!_ You can confuse your opponent. _Sching!_ And do this."

And with that, Harry punched Ron in the nose, proving once again how important the lightsaber noises are to a duel.

* * *

This chapter has two new sections! See if you can spot them! If you can, you get a shout-out! Last chapter, no one got that the new one was number 9. What are the new ones now?

Now which one was your favorite? I have to say, I really enjoyed writing numbers 12, 17, and 20. What about you?

Thank you all for the reviews! In order to show my appreciation, I have a little contest. Out of anyone who reviews this chapter, I'll randomly pick one of the people, give them a special shout-out next chapter, and give them a review for any story of their choosing! It's the least I can do to thank you all! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	4. Things 21 to 30

_21. I must not throw Mrs. Norris out windows_

Ginny Weasley was hungry. She'd accidentally studied through dinner, and she was _way_ too hungry to wait until morning, so her only option was to sneak down to the kitchens.

That, however, was easier said then done, as she learned the hard way. It wasn't that she got lost, or that she moved too loudly. No, Ginny crept with a silent ease towards the kitchens. The problem was Mrs. Norris.

A loud _meow_ from behind her alerted Ginny to the presence of Filch's cat. With wide eyes, the girl spun around. She was out _way _past curfew. Filch would find her, and a detention would be unavoidable. And all because she wanted to _eat_. No, she couldn't let that happen! She had to do something...

Without hesitating, Ginny grabbed Mrs. Norris by the scruff of her neck and chucked her out the window. "_Meeeoooww!"_ the cat screeched as she flew through the air.

Ginny, however, just shrugged and continued on her way. She was only on the second story. Mrs. Norris would be just fine.

* * *

_22. I am not allowed to suggest that the Gryffindor team practice by playing Strip Quidditch._

"Oi! That's another one, Ron!"

"Come on now, little brother. Take it off!"

Ron's ears grew red as he unbuckled his pants. _This_ is what he got for making the Quidditch team! If only Wood was still in charge! Oliver would have had the sense to not take advice from Fred and George. Stupid Angelina...

"What is going on out here?" The team members swooped around on their brooms to find a red faced McGonagall gaping at the seven barely-dressed team members. Most of the members were shirtless. Ron, however, was also without pants.

"New training technique, Professor," Fred said with a grin. "Isn't it brilliant?"

"That's right! You screw up, you strip," George said with a look of innocence.

"It's a fun new game of ours."

"We think it'll be a sure-fire hit at parties!"

"And," Fred said with a laugh. "it's some extra incentive to try your hardest at practice."

McGonagall couldn't say anything; her face was too red with anger. Instead, all she could do was point the twins towards the castle as Harry and Ginny quaked with silent laughter and Ron put his pants back on.

* * *

_23. The proper way to report to Professor McGonagall is "You wanted to see me, Professor?" Not "I have it on good authority that you have no evidence."_

McGonagall rubbed her temples in agony. What a day. First the strip Quidditch incident, then Peeves and the dungbombs, and then Umbridge started making decrees... When did her life get so complicated?

There was a knock at her door. "Come in," she said with a sigh. Ron poked his head through the door, looking nervous. "Ah, Mr. Weasley." Perfect. Now McGonagall could congratulate him on his performance in the first Quidditch match of the year, and encourage him to try his best and _not_ listen to the harebrained schemes of those twins.

Before she could open her mouth however, Ron spoke. "Professor," he said, stone-faced. "I have it on good authority that you have no evidence."

Ron left the office five minutes later, having received a detention. McGonagall had no idea what she gave him the detention _for_, but she figured he had to have done _something_ to enter her office like that.

* * *

_24. I will not attempt to confuse Crabbe and Goyle by calling them by each other's names._

"Mudblood," Crabbe hissed at Hermione, his eyes narrowed in distaste as he glared at the girl from across the courtyard.

The Gryffindor's eyes narrowed. "That's not very nice, Goyle."

He blinked. "I'm Crabbe."

"And I'm Goyle!"

"Right," she said with a shake of her head. "Sorry Goyle."

"Crabbe!" Goyle corrected.

"Crabbe?" she addressed him.

"No, Goyle!"

"Right, not Goyle. So Crabbe?"

"Goyle!"

"No," she said, pointing to Crabbe. "_He's_ Goyle."

"I'm Crabbe!"

"Goyle!"

"Crabbe!"

"Goyle!"

"Crabbe!"

"Crabbe!"

"Im Goyle!" Crabbe shouted. Then he paused, his eyes widening. "Wait."

"That's what I thought," Hermione said with a smirk before walking away.

* * *

_25. I will not refer to the Accio charm as "The Force"_

"Oomph!" Ron breathed as he tripped on the stairs. He dropped his bag, using his hands to break his fall. His book fell down to the floor below, hitting some poor student on the head.

Malfoy laughed. "Nice going, Weasel. Clumsy as Longbottom, are you?"

Ron ignored this, groaning to himself. "Great, now I have to go down and get that!"

Hermione surprised everybody, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, by laying a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Use The Force, Ron."

Ron blinked at her in confusion. "The what?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione pointed her wand at the textbook and the unconscious student beneath it. "_Accio book,_" she muttered. The book flew up to her and she caught it. Handing it to Ron, she said, "The Force."

Everyone gaped at her in wonder. Then, Ron got his wits back. "Isn't that the Accio charm?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's The Force."

"But I thought-"

"You're wrong."

"But-"

"Wrong."

"How can you say-"

"Will you two just get a room already?" Harry shouted over his shoulder as he left the bickering pair behind.

* * *

_26. I will not attempt to fuse the rules of chemistry with those of potions._

"Next," Professor Snape continued in his lecture one dull Monday. "You will add the billywings to the first mixture-" He stopped suddenly, sighing as Hermione's hand shot into the air. "What now, Miss Granger?"

"Professor, I don't mean to criticize, but I think you're wrong," Hermione said in a condescending tone.

Snape's eyebrow rose. "And how, pray tell, am I - the teacher - incorrect?" The Slytherin's around him chuckled maliciously, anticipating a scathing verbal lashing from their head of house.

"Well," Hermione began, "first of all, there's the molecular structure of the billywings. With molecular structure, like dissolves like, so if the mixture is nonpolar - as I suspect it is - then adding the billywings will be completely useless since they are nonpolar as well. They'll just dissolve." The mouths of her classmates dropped open. That was _not_ what they'd been expecting.

"Secondly," Hermione continued, "the mixture is most definitely acidic; you can tell that just by looking at it. From past experiences, I've noticed that the billywings create an acidicness as well, meaning the potion won't neutralize. And since it's for digestion... don't you think the potion should neutralize?"

The dumbfounded Slytherins turned eagerly to Professor Snape, awaiting his snapping to remarks. Instead, they found the teacher staring at the board, reading his own writing before casually flicking his wand towards it. Instead of adding billywings to the first mixture, the students were now supposed to add it to the second one.

Without another word, Snape went on with his lecture, letting the rest of the class sit in the shock that not only was Hermione correct about her criticism, but that Snape didn't berate her for the interruption.

* * *

_27. If the thought of a spell makes me giggle for longer than 15 seconds, I am to assume that I am not allowed to do it._

Hermione sat down next to a hysterical Harry, Ron, and Ginny one Sunday morning for breakfast. Raising her eyebrow at the three of them, she began buttering her toast, waiting for the explanation.

"Hermione," Ron whispered with excitement. "You should have seen it! It was brilliant!"

"I'm sure whatever _it_ is, it wasn't that good, Ronald."

Ron frowned. "But it was! It was amazing, Ginny did an engorgio charm this morning, and while I find it a little wonky that _she _was the one to perform this particular spell..."

"It worked perfectly," Harry butted in.

"I don't understand," Hermione began. But before she could get another word out, a red-faced Draco Malfoy strolled into the Great Hall with his friends. Hermione also couldn't help but notice that a certain part of his male anatomy seemed a little bigger than usual. "Ah," she said in understanding. "So that was what the minute-long giggle fit was about."

"I'm surprised you're so... cool with this little prank," Ginny said with a smirk. "I'd have thought you'd want to defend his honor... and his small-"

Ron covered his sister's mouth with his hand. "I don't want to hear it!"

Hermione shrugged. "Well, truth be told, it's a highly more effective process than muggle plastic surgery. I don't know why your kind hasn't started using it sooner." Ron and Harry stared at their friend in shock, while in the distance a blushing Malfoy took great pains to cover his new assets.

* * *

_28. The fact that there are only three unforgivable curses does not mean that every other curse is "pretty much forgivable"._

One morning, as the Gryffindors and the Slytherins sat together in Umbridge's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the unthinkable happened: Ronald Weasley, slacker extraordanaire, raised his hand.

Umbridge approached him cautiously, a fake smile plastered on her face.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

"Professor, is it true that there are only three unforgivable curses?" Ron asked loudly.

"Mr. Weasley, if you had paid any attention in class last year," Umbridge answered tersely, "then you would know that statement to be true. The unforgivable curses are the killing curse, the imperius curse, and the cruciatus curse."

"Right, right," Ron said, waving the answer away. "So that means any other curse is pretty much forgivable?"

Umbridge blinked. "Well... I wouldn't be so quick to claim that-"

"But if I were to use a cutting spell to slice off your arm, I wouldn't get a life sentence in Azkaban like I would have if I had used the cruciatus curse?" Ron smiled innocently, aware that everyone in the class was watching him.

A pregnant pause filled the room as Umbridge got her wits back together. Finally, she smiled that witchy smile of hers. "In theory, no," Umbridge answered. "But seeing as you are contemplating these things... perhaps a detention with me shall straighten you out, yes?"

Ron was the only person _not _smiling after learning this interesting tidbit about the Ministry.

* * *

_29. I will not swap Draco's broom with one out of Filch's broom cupboard._

The first Slytherin match of the year was finally there, and students from all years and houses had trekked down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the serpents battle with the Hufflepuffs for victory.

No one was more interested in the outcome of the match than Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived wanted the Hufflepuffs to win desperately; he was aching for the Slytherins to fail. All he could hope was that Malfoy would be off his game...

The whistle blew, the players shot off into the air... and Malfoy stayed behind. Harry frowned, surprised. "What do you think he's doing?" he muttered to Ron. "Is this some new strategy, or..."

"No idea, mate," Ron said with a shrug. "But if it is, it sure is a strange - oh. Hang on. He's throwing some kind of a fit... I don't think it's a strategy after all..."

"You're correct in that assumption, brother," Fred said, sitting beside him.

"In fact," George continued, mirth in his eyes. "I'd venture so far as to say that he wasn't expecting this at all."

"Neither was Filch, of course," Fred added.

"He certainly is going to have a shock when he tries to sweep the entranceway tomorrow morning," George snickered. "Five sickles says the broom will just jump out of his hands!"

"_You_ did this?" Harry asked. "That _really_ shouldn't surprise me."

"It was easy."

"It was fun."

"It'll cost you a detention," a voice from behind them said.

Wincing, Fred and George turned in tandem to face McGonagall. "But, Professor-" Fred began.

"No," she said sternly. "In my office. _Now! _And you'd better pray that I don't get Professor Snape involved!"

With their heads bowed, Fred and George followed after their Head of House. On the field below them, Malfoy stomped his foot in anger.

* * *

_30. I will not create a pin-up calendar of the Slytherin girls and call it "Voldie's Angels"._

Fred and George quickly thrust the calendar out of sight as Flitwick entered the classroom, but just like their younger brother, they weren't quick enough. Speed was really something the Weasley's needed to work on...

"Well boys," Flitwick said warily. "What do we have here?" He held out his hand expectantly.

Looking down in shame, Fred handed over his prized possession.

"Hmm..." Flitwick said, quickly flipping through the calendar before handing it back to its rightful owner. "Well. I think it's good that you boys are interested in muggle affairs, even if muggle calendars are so dreadfully boring..." He walked away, muttering to himself as he went.

Fred and George exchanged triumphant glances as George transfigured the muggle pictures back into the Slytherin pin-up girl calendar it actually was. They had made it themselves and were planning on selling it in the near future.

They were calling it Voldie's Angels.

* * *

This chapter has three new sections! See if you can spot them! If you can, you get a shout-out! The two new sections from the last chapter were 12 and 17. Congrats to AnnieLeigh for getting it right!

So which one was your favorite? I have to say, I really enjoyed writing numbers 21, 24, 25, and 28. What about you?

Now, the random winner of last chapter's contest is... Jackson Leona! Her story, Things That Should Have Been Said, is _severely _under reviewed, so if you're feeling generous, drop by and check her story out! It's short, but it's really well done!

Now for this week's contest. One reviewer will be chosen at random to receive both a shout-out and a review for one of their stories. The catch this time is that the review must include what your favorite number(s) were for this chapter! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	5. Things 31 to 40

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_31. I'm not allowed to use a fortune teller to make predictions in Divination._

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "Here she comes!"

"Do you have it?" Ron whispered urgently.

Harry nodded, his hands poised at the ready under the table as Trelawney stepped up to their table, her eyes glazed from the constant smell of incense. "Ah, and what have we here? How is the magic of the crystal ball speaking to you?"

"Name a color," Harry said, staring deeply into the ball in mock concentration.

Trelawney stepped back, surprise written all over her face. "Excuse me, dear. What?"

"The crystal ball has deemed it necessary for me to ask you to pick a color," Harry said seriously as Ron attempted to not crack up.

"Blue," Trelawney said, skepticism coloring her voice as she spoke.

Harry quickly and quietly moved the fortune teller under the table, all the while keeping eye-contact with the crystal ball. "Now you must pick a number. Either," he glanced down. "One, three, five, or seven."

"What is the meaning of this-"

"Professor," Ron spoke up suddenly, attempting to look serious. "You're clouding his inner eye! Just do what he asks!"

With a huff, Trelawney answered. "Seven," she said quickly. "Because it has great mystical powers, and-"

"Yeah, great," Harry interrupted. "Now pick another number. Two, four, six, or eight?"

"I don't understand the point of... What's this?" Trelawney said, snatching the fortune teller from Harry's lap. "What on earth..."

"Uh," Harry stuttered. "That's my... homework?"

"I didn't assign this, Potter! Now, you make your prediction, or I'll be forced to give you a detention!"

Squinting a little so he could read his own handwriting from the distance, Harry answered Trelawney's plea. "'You're in for a rude awakening.'" Paling slightly, Harry looked up at his livid teacher's face. "Uh, sorry Professor..."

It was then that Ron collapsed from laughter, having not been able to hold it in anymore. Sadly, he ended up with a week's worth of detention as well...

* * *

_32. Saying the Dark Mark should be the Slytherin crest is wrong._

"Get your scarves! Come on, one. Come on, all! Get your school scarves here! We have them in red, in gold-"

"In red and gold stripped," George continued for his brother. "In gold with red polka dots-"

"And in red with _gold_ polka dots for the Gryffindors!"

"And we have the same options for all of the houses!"

"Yellow and black for Hufflepuffs!"

"Blue and bronze for Ravenclaws," George called out.

"And silver and green for Slytherins! Show your house pride! Buy a homemade scarf today!" Fred shouted, throwing his hands up.

"You know," a voice from behind them said. They turned as one, their eyes coming to rest upon McGonagall. She spoke as she shook her head. "This may very well be the first of your daft plans that I actually support."

"Why thank you, Professor," Fred said with a raised eyebrow.

"It's nice to know that we have your support," George said. "It's also nice to know that you won't shut us down."

"There's nothing wrong with a little school spirit," McGonagall admitted. "But that is the _only_ thing that I advocate. And you'd do well to keep that in mind!"

"Yes Professor!" They turned away from her as she began to walk off down the corridor, and they continued their sales pitch. "For a limited time only, we even have scarves with the house emblems on them!"

"Wear the Gryffindor lion with pride," George said as McGonagall rounded the corner.

"The Hufflepuff badger with honor."

"The Ravenclaw raven with integrity."

The boys exchanged glances, and then spoke together. "And wear the Slytherin Dark Mark with discrimination!"

* * *

_33. I will not use the Marauder's Map for stalking purposes._

"Sh! What are you _doing_? We don't want to get caught!"

"Well then maybe you shouldn't walk so close to the wall," Ron hissed back to his best mate.

"Maybe you should watch where you're going," Harry whispered back.

"Well maybe you-"

"Wait," Harry interrupted suddenly. "Here he comes!" Throwing the invisibility cloak off of themselves in one fluid motion, Harry and Ron posed against the wall, twin glares on their faces, as they watched the boy they were waiting for round the corner. "Evening, Malfoy."

Draco stopped suddenly, surprised to find the two of them staring at him. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing," Ron said, sneering as he took a step forward.

"This is the third time I've seen you two pop up tonight." Draco shook his head. "Are you following me?"

"Maybe," Harry said coyly. "But you'll never know, now will you?"

Malfoy shook his head and walked off, a scowl sliding onto his face as he went. As soon as the blond boy was out of sight, Harry pulled the Marauder's Map from his pocket. "Right," he said quickly. "It looks like he's heading down to the kitchens. Come on, there's a secret passage over here!"

* * *

_34. I will not tell first years that Moon Prism Power is a basic Transfiguration spell._

Hermione watched on one evening at dinner in satisfaction as Professor McGonagall yelled at Pansy Parkinson. She claimed that Pansy had been telling the Hufflepuff first years some ridiculous nonsense about the moon, and that she could teach them a secret spell. Parkinson, predictably, denied all knowledge of said events. Unfortunately for her, McGonagall chose not to believe the Slytherin prefect and instead punished the girl with a week's detention.

Even though _Hermione_ had been the one to perpetrate the lie, the Gryffindor girl still couldn't help but frown at the idiot first years that believed the _ludicrous_ rumor and practiced "Moon Prism Power!" in the common room all night long.

* * *

_35. I'm not allowed to tell Umbridge she takes herself too seriously_

"This newest decree _must_ be followed by each and every one of you, or else extreme measures will be taken to... _coax_ out your compliance," Umbridge demanded over breakfast one day. "And trust me when I say that these measures are _not_ pleasant. Do I make myself clear?" Silence. Umbridge sighed though, as she spotted a problem. "Yes, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny stood so everybody could see her. "Professor, with all due respect, you take yourself _way_ too seriously. Maybe you should just relax and sit down. Drink your coffee. Then you won't be so uptight, yeah?"

* * *

_36. I am not to start a "Who can blow up their cauldron first" contest in Potions class._

"Instructions are on the board," Snape drawled. "You may begin."

The professor sat back in his chair, noticing the glances that Weasley exchanged with Potter, but choosing to think nothing of them as he listened to the wonderful sound of the simmering cauldrons...

That was when the first one blew up. Granger's cauldron exploded with a _bang, _the contents of the potion flying all over the room. For a second, all Snape could do was sit in surprise. Granger's cauldron blew up? Granger's? _Granger's? _What was going on?

And then the rest of them started to go.

Like popcorn, cauldron after cauldron exploded. Patil's, Potter's, Malfoy's, Weasley's, Parkinson's... As Ron handed Hermione the prize money, Snape jumped into action, giving detentions to anyone whose cauldron dared to explode.

Ironically, Neville was the only person whose cauldron stayed intact, even though he was a part of the contest...

* * *

_37. I will not owl Voldemort a bottle of anti-depressants._

Peter Pettigrew was trembling; he always hated it when he had to approach his master privately. He was afraid of him, deeply afraid that with no witnesses around, the Dark Lord would do something unspeakable to him out of boredom...

But he had no choice. A package for the Dark Lord had arrived, and if he didn't give it to him, Pettigrew would surely be punished. "My Lord?" he whispered, bowing his head down. "My Lord, this just came for you-" He stopped speaking as Voldemort ripped the parcel from his hands and began to tear the paper open. "My - my Lord, wait! I haven't checked the package for enchantments yet-"

"Silence!" Voldemort hissed, a withering glare falling onto his face. "Do not dare to presume that my powers are so weak that I cannot_sense_ any enchantments that may be upon this. Just from touch I can tell that no magic has touched this parcel! No magic at..."

His eyes narrowed as he slowly untied the string and dumped the contents of the present onto a table. His eyes widened in horror. "_Muggle_antidepressants? How dare they... Come, Wormtail! We must find whoever sent me this _gift_ and destroy them! We shall make an example of them. No one will _ever_ send me muggle things again! We will find this-" he glanced down at the card attached. "WWW, and make them pay!"

* * *

_38. I will not put a *Kick Me* sign on Draco's back._

Draco didn't understand why everyone in the school was kicking him. The Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaws... even the Slytherins saw the need to kick him. Everyone from first years with their tiny feet to the seventh years (who really hurt, by the way) were taking a swing at him.

What was going on?

It was only at dinner when Snape walked by and informed Draco of the sign on his back that Draco realized what was going on. The magical people of Hogwarts had no idea that the sign was placed on his back by someone else, thinking instead that Draco wanted to be kicked as punishment for being such an arse all of the time.

In the distance, Fred and George exchanged high-fives.

* * *

_39. I will not tell Snape to suck it after he takes off house points._

"Ah, Miss Weasley," Snape said, shaking his head as a malicious smile formed on his face. The class waited for his punishment with bated breath. "This is wrong, oh so wrong. You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" A dramatic pause, and then - "Ten house points from Gryffindor."

Ginny's classmates looked away from her, presumably to let her hang her head in shame, but all Ginny Weasley did was roll her eyes. "Ah, why don't you just suck it."

It took Snape a moment to realize what that meant, but once he figured it out, the entire class could tell, thanks to the color that formed on his cheeks. It appeared that the pale teacher had a very bad sunburn on his face. Of course, his newfound red appearance did _not_ deter him from deducting even _more_ house points for Ginny's cheek.

* * *

_40. "I've heard every possible joke about Oliver Wood's name" is not a challenge._

"I've already heard that one," Wood said, placing his head between his hands. What a long night. Here he was, going out of his way to meet with the Weasley brothers for a drink in the Hogshead, and all they wanted to do was make poor jokes about his name...

"What about the one with the broomstick-"

"Many times," Wood interrupted.

"Oh! The one about getting wooden-"

"Heard that!"

"Well how about how you'll make some girl _very _happy, because you have twice as much wood to go around?"

A pause, and then, "Actually, I've never heard that one before." Oliver scowled as the twins whooped in celebration.

* * *

This chapter has two new sections. Can you guess what they are? Last chapter, the new sections were 21, 24, and 29! Congrats to chocolate rules333 for getting it right!

So which one was your favorite? I have to say, I really enjoyed writing numbers 31, 32, and 37. What about you?

Now, the random winner of last chapter's contest is... The Mysterious E! This person's story, Saving Each Other From Themselves, is absolutely adorable. It's a series of Ron and Hermione drabbles and I advise you to take a look at them!

Now for this week's contest. One reviewer will be chosen at random to receive both a shout-out and a review for one of their stories. The catch _this_ time is that the review must include what numbers you think are new for this chapter. If you don't know, just guess! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	6. Things 41 to 50

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_41. Puking Pastils are not to be tested in the entranceway every hour on the hour._

The door flew open with a _bang_ as Argus Filch stormed into Professor Dumbledore's office, a scowl of anger and distaste visible on his face. He glared down at the headmaster as a snarl ripped from his chest. Slamming his hands down on the desk in front of him, Filch growled, "Headmaster! This is simply unacceptable!"

Dumbledore, however, merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned. "I'm sorry, Argus, but I'm afraid that I'm not a master Legimens. You'll have to explain to me what you find unacceptable - I can't, after all, read your mind."

He tossed his hands into the air. "The vomiting!" he spat. "The constant, unrelenting _vomiting_!"

Dumbledore raised an eye. "Unrelenting? Oh, my. That is a problem."

"Since ten o'clock this morning, students have been vomiting in the entranceway! Ten o'clock! That's _five_ hours!"

"Five straight hours of vomiting. My, it appears that we have an epidemic on our hands." He rose and moved towards the fireplace. "I'll go and call Poppy-"

"No," Filch said with a violent shake of his head. "No."

"No?" the bearded man tilted his head to the side. "You don't wish me to fetch Poppy? Argus, if the children are sick-"

"They aren't," he said flatly. "Someone's doing this! I know because I've timed it! Every hour on the hour, two students will vomit, without fail!"

Dumbledore frowned. "That's hardly unrelenting, then."

"Headmaster!"

He smiled at his caretaker, though, and just walked back over to his desk. "I think I may have an idea of how to stop this, Argus. Please, go and fetch the Weasley twins at once, if you will."

Filch's eyes grew wide. "Of course they're behind this! I should've known-"

"Calm yourself, Argus," Dumbledore said, his voice taking on a warning tone. "Now then." He smiled. "Would you care for a lemon drop?"

* * *

_42. I do not have a Dalek Patronus_

"Harry," Cho Chang called out at the next DA meeting.

Harry turned to the Asian girl, a slight blush on his face. He was about to start the lesson. Normally, he didn't like to be interrupted when he was entering "teaching mode" - he had enough trouble taking charge of his friends without the added interruptions - but he could always make an exception for Cho Chang. "Yes?"

"Are you going to teach us how to create a Patronus?"

Harry gave a slight nod. "Eventually. Though not right away. You lot still need some more practice before you'll be able to produce a fully formed Patronus."

"_I_ can already produce a Patronus," Fred called out, his voice smug.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You can?"

"You _can_?" George echoed, surprised.

"Yes. It's quite strong too," the twin boasted.

"All right, then," Harry said with a laugh. "If your Patronus is so strong, why don't you show us, then?"

But Fred just shook his head. "I can't." Beside him, a look of comprehension came over George's face, and he started to laugh.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"Because my Patronus is a Dalek," Fred said simply. "And if I were to let it loose on the DA without an enemy about, it would exterminate you all!" As his classmates all stared at him in wonder, George broke down and began to laugh hysterically.

* * *

_43. "OMGWTF" is not a spell_

It was Ginny who told the first years that the phrase OMGWTF was a special spell used to attract attention. She said that it fed off of the student's excitement; therefore the best place to perform said spell would be in the Great Hall at breakfast. Preferably when the owls were arriving. It worked even better if the wand was pointed towards the teachers.

Ginny also stressed that such a spell required loud verbal cues - the witch or wizard in question needed to shout the spell at the top of their lungs in order for it to succeed.

When said first years actually _tried _the spell, however, they quickly realized that the only thing Ginny _hadn't_ lied about was that the "spell" would get them attention. Because when these two Gryffindor idiots yelled "OMGWTF" out at breakfast one morning, the entire school stared to ogle at them.

Well, except for Snape. He just gave them detentions.

* * *

_44. I won't sit in detention with Snape and ask him questions about his childhood_

Hermione spent the detention Snape had given her for blowing up her cauldron lounging in her chair, a quill in hand. While writing _'I will not take part in any ridiculous bets and make a further fool of myself' _a hundred times certainly _seemed _like an easy detention, in all actuality, it had become quite boring after awhile. And so, as was characteristic of Hermione Granger, she raised her hand.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Miss Granger, even _you_ could not possibly have a question about this assignment."

"I was just wondering, Professor," Hermione said seriously. Her hand continued to move as she spoke, all the while copying down the tedious line. "Where did you grow up?"

The professor seemed a little taken aback by this, his eyes widening in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Where did you grow up?" Hermione repeated. "In London? Or the country? Was it nice all year round? I bet you took many wonderful trips around England as a child." She smiled up at him as she continued to write.

"Miss Granger, that is not your-"

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said with an apologetic shrug. "I know it's rather... forward of me to ask-"

"Quite!"

"But I've always found that by learning as much as possible about potions masters, one can better understand the methods and principles behind which the potions were created. That's why I'm asking where you grew up, you see. But if you feel you can't tell me, I understand, sir."

Snape paused, and then, to the other students' surprise, Snape began to recount his history to the Gryffindor girl, stopping every now and then so Hermione could ask a question about his childhood.

* * *

_45. I'm not allowed to start the beat-boxing club._

Umbridge stared at the ten students before her in concern. They were trying to pitch her a club idea, and she wasn't entirely sure she understood its purpose. "Beat-boxing? What... what is that? What do you mean?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You don't know what beat-boxing is?"

Umbridge scowled. "Well, I didn't grow up in the _muggle_ world, Miss Granger."

"Ah, Professor," Ron said, shaking his head. "How have you gone so long without learning your boots and cats?"

Umbridge started. "My _what_?" She felt the beginnings of a headache approaching. Oh, how she regretted putting herself in charge of the school's clubs...

"They're sounds," Dean Thomas said excitedly. "Sounds that you make when you're beat-boxing."

"I'm sorry, _what_?"

Hermione sighed. "Ron, I think she needs a demonstration."

"Right then," Ron said, turning to the twins, Seamus, Neville, and Lavender. "On three. One, two, three!"

As one, the five of them began... "_Bp te cah te, bp bp cah te, bp te cah te, bp te te puh."_

"So," Ron said excitedly. "What did you think?"

Umbridge was so shocked by the blatant stupidity of this _hobby_ that it took her a moment to find her voice and tell them no.

* * *

_46. I'm not on Survivor and therefore I'm not allowed to vote people out of the common room._

"Missy, the tribe has spoken," Ginny said ominously.

"But... where am I to go?" the young second year blond asked, worried.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, our version of the Ponderosa is being renovated right now - some fourth year Hufflepuff accidentally lit it on fire last week - so... you're on your own. Good luck!"

"But-"

"Missy, you've just been voted out of the common room," Ginny snapped. "Leave!"

The poor girl was tearing up as she was on her way to the portrait hole when it suddenly opened, revealing a stern-faced McGonagall. "What, in the name of Merlin, is going on here?" Missy threw herself at the Professor's feet, sobbing, as two other students entered behind McGonagall.

"Uh," Ginny said, turning quickly to her brother. "Fred. Do you want to go find that third year we sent to exile island?"

Fred shook his head and whispered back to his sister. "Naw. He was annoying, let him stay there." That was all they could get out before McGonagall descended upon them in fury.

* * *

_47. If Draco, Harry, or any other seeker gets on my nerves, I am not allowed to shout "Fetch!" and throw a little golden ball at them._

Harry and Malfoy were fighting. Again.

The two of them fight so often that it's really no surprise to anyone when they go at it anymore. Most of the time, the Hogwarts students just let the two of them fight, but Hermione couldn't take it. They were in the library, for Merlin's sake! And she was trying to study! It was intolerable, absolutely intolerable. Especially since they weren't just fighting, oh no.

They were exchanging 'Yo mama' insults. Or in this case, 'Your mum' insults.

"Your mum is so blond, she probably thinks the radio is filled with tiny people," Harry sneered.

"Yeah? Well your mum is so dead, she never moves!"

"That was crap, Malfoy!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No it was-"

Hermione slammed her book down, incapable of ignoring their stupidity any longer. She pulled from her pocket a little bouncy ball she had painted gold, and threw it between the two of them. "Fetch," she called out.

The two boys paused, looks of awe and annoyance on their faces. "What the hell, Granger?" Malfoy snapped.

"Yeah, Hermione," Harry said with a shake of his head. "That was a little... over the top."

"Fine then," she said, gathering up her books. "Fine. Then why don't you just take your own advice Harry. Why don't you two just get a room!"

And with that, she hurried from the library, leaving Malfoy and Harry both looking incredibly scandalized.

* * *

_48. I will not organize a Hogwarts Fight Club._

Umbridge was excited - she'd just found out about an illegal club containing Potter, Weasley, and Granger. She was so sure that this was the secret defense club that her spies in The Hog's Head had told her about!

She burst into the unused classroom on the third floor, her wand drawn, her mouth open in glee to find... Potter, Weasley, Granger, and a few other upper year students sitting in a circle, studying.

"W-what?" she stammered as she lowered her wand. "What is going on here?"

"Oh, hello Professor," Hermione said with a sweet smile. "And how are you today?"

"Granger... What is the meaning of this?"

"This is a study group," she said gesturing to the other students in the room. Parvati and Padma both waved awkwardly. "Why? What does it _look_ like this is?"

"All clubs," Umbridge started to say. "Are expressly forbidden unless approved by me-"

"This isn't a club, Professor," Ron jumped in. "It's a study _group_. You know, just a noncommittal, non_cluby_ group."

"But-"

"Please, Professor," Hermione said, patting the ground beside her. "If you would like to participate in the studying, feel free. Though you'll probably be terribly bored. Our charms homework questions will be like _child's_ play to you, after all."

Umbridge's eyes shifted from face to face, searching desperately for some sort of hint that one of them was lying... but she found nothing. With a huff, she turned decisively on her heel and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Harry glanced down at the open book in his lap as the other student's held their breaths, waiting for the all-clear signal. "All right," he said at last, holding up the Marauder's Map that he'd tucked into the pages of the book. "She's gone."

"We appreciate everyone staying silent," Hermione said with a grin as the students all stood up. "Though I confess that staying silent is what we expected you to do. After all, the first rule of Fight Club is that we do _not_ talk about Fight Club!"

"Now then," Harry said, clapping his hands together. "Lavender? Ginny? You're up."

* * *

_49. I will not borrow Trelawny's tarot cards for a game of poker._

"I'll raise you two Knuts and one Sickle," Fred said, turning to Harry.

The famous teenager scowled before sighing. "All right," he finally caved. "I'll fold."

"Ah-ha!" Fred screamed in triumph. "I win! And look at what I had to," he showed his cards, including both Death and The Tower.

Hermione groaned. "Why did I fold again?"

Suddenly, screaming came from the entrance to the castle. "I wonder what that was," Harry said, tensing up. He pulled out his wand. "Do you suppose we ought to go check?" That was when Trelawney ran out in a fit of panic.

"Oh, it's just the old loon looking for her tarot cards," Fred said with a shrug. "Now," he grinned. "Who's ready to go again?"

* * *

_50. I am not to say that any of my witch relatives were crushed by a house_

"It's okay. It's all right, George. We'll get through this."

"No we won't," George wailed, bringing his hands up to cover his face. "Our lives are over!"

"What is going on now," McGonagall said sternly, coming up behind the twins as George continued to sob in the Great Hall.

"Our aunt," Fred said calmly. "There was a... minor mishap."

"Minor!" George exclaimed. "How can you say that? She's dead!"

McGonagall gasped in surprise. "What? But... but how?"

"It's rather complicated-"

"I'll tell you how," George said, grabbing the front of his professor's robes. "The house fell on her! She was crushed by a house!"

McGonagall blinked in surprise. "I... what?"

"It's true," Fred said solemnly. "A house fell on her... Right before some stupid girl stole her shoes."

* * *

This chapter has three new sections. Can you guess what they are? Last chapter, the new sections were 32 and 37! No one got it right!

So which one was your favorite? I loved 44, 45, 47, and 48. What about you?

Now for this week's contest. One reviewer will be chosen at random to receive both a shout-out and a review for one of their stories. The catch _this_ time is that the review must include what numbers you think are new for this chapter. If you don't know, just guess! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	7. Things 51 to 60

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_51. I will not post notices in common rooms saying that tomorrow is a theme day, wear a costume._

"A _theme_ day? What is that?"

"I don't know," a small Gryffindor girl said in response to her friend. "But it says to wear a costume."

"This is ridiculous," one of the older students said with a scoff. "Hogwarts has never had a theme day before. I bet you it's just one of the Slytherins trying to make us Gryffindors look like fools."

"Not true," George said, joining the circle around the noticeboard in the common room. "I heard that these things are up in all of the other common rooms as well."

"Yeah," Fred chimed in, a glimmer of laughter present in his eyes. "I think the entire school is supposed to participate in theme day."

"Well tomorrow _is_ Halloween," a muggle-born first year boy said with a shrug. "It's the day that muggles wear costumes."

"Exactly," George coaxed. "And you know Dumbledore, always trying to create new traditions. I think he really _does_ want us to dress up tomorrow."

"But as _what_?" the older girl protested.

George shrugged. "That's up to you. But..." he exchanged glances with his twin. "I think we're going to go as zombies."

* * *

_52. I am not allowed to post flyers around Hogwarts saying that classes have been cancelled on Halloween. _

Umbridge didn't hesitate in giving out a massive group detention to the entire first year class of Hogwarts for ditching all of their lessons on Halloween. Though they all protested that giving out detentions to an entire _year_ was a bit unfair, she had no trouble reminding them that the rules are there to be followed, not ignored.

Even once she'd found an official looking WWW flyer that said _Classes are cancelled for Halloween! Prepare for some good old-fashioned Halloween fun!_ in all of the common rooms, Umbridge still felt that the massive punishment was necessary to insure that this kind of blatant stupidity didn't happen again.

Unfortunately for Umbridge, though, none of the first years seemed to know who had posted the flyers, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out who was behind the little prank...

* * *

_53. I'm not allowed to reenact a scene from Macbeth on Halloween._

During the lunch hour that day, everyone was scared witless when all of a sudden, Harry Potter screamed. He stood, an accusatory finger pointed towards Ginny, Hermione, and Lavender. The three girls stood across from him, wicked grins on their faces. "I will be satisfied!" Harry said, his eyes wide. "Deny me this, and an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know. Why sinks the cauldron? And what noise is this?"

All eyes in the hall turned to the three witches who stood opposite of Harry as sly grins crossed their faces and they began to chant. "Show, show, show," they whispered, their voices eerily carrying across the entire hall. "Show his eyes and grieve his heart. Come like shadows; so depart!"

A gasp escaped from Harry's lips as his eyes locked on something directly behind the three girls... something that wasn't there. "Horrible sight! Now I see 'tis true, for the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me and points at them for his. What, is this so?"

Once more, the girls all spoke as one. "I'll charm he air to give a sound, while you perform your antic round."

Harry turned his back on them, sweeping his arm out across the Great Hall. "From this moment the very firstlings of my heart shall be the firstlings of my hand," he said solemnly. Silence surrounded him. And then, Fred, George, Ron, and the rest of the DA stood and started to applaud.

"Encore, encore!" Fred exclaimed as the four students took a bow.

"Good show!"

"Bravo!"

The rest of the students began to slowly clap and cheer as Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Lavender bowed once more before turning to bow to the stunned teachers sitting at the high table. Dumbledore had a characteristic twinkle in his eye as he let out a small whistle to the children.

Over at the Hufflepuff table, a small first year girl turned to her friend. "I used to hate Halloween," she confided to the girl beside her, who was dressed as a gypsy. "But Halloween at Hogwarts is actually really fun!" She adjusted the cat's ears on her head, and continued to cheer for those before her.

* * *

_54. I am not allowed to sing Thriller on Halloween. Nor am I allowed to attempt to teach people the dance_

It happened during the traditional Halloween dinner feast. Dumbledore sat in his usual seat, his eyes twinkling, as many of the students gorged themselves on candy corn and bat-shaped cookies. However he frowned when he noticed that at large chunk of the younger years appeared to be missing...

Suddenly, music sounded up, flooding through the Great Hall. The eery, haunting sounds soon gave way to a pop-beat, and all of the first years and most of the DA entered the Great Hall dressed as zombies. Harry and Hermione led the way, and before long, the group had begun to dance as Dean Thomas belted out the tune.

"_For this is thriller! Thriller night."_

Apparently, the two Gryffindors had spent the entire day in the Room of Requirement teaching Gryffindors and Slytherin alike the Thriller dance. They had told the younger years that it was a Hogwarts tradition for all of the first years to dance the Thriller dance on Halloween. While that in and of itself was false, everyone could tell by the look on Dumbledore's face that he was seriously considering _making_ it a Hogwarts tradition...

And that was how Thriller entered the wizarding world.

* * *

_55. It probably isn't smart to insinuate that Draco Malfoy's hair glows in the dark._

"Hey Weaslette," Malfoy said with a smirk as he passed the younger girl in the corridor.

"Malfoy," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"What, that's the only greeting I get?" he said with a haughty glare. "After I did you such a kindness as recommend a place for you to get your hair done?" He glanced at the girl's red tresses and sneered. "Not that you've actually _been_, I see. You really _do_ need to get your roots fixed, Weaslette. Or can you and your failure family not afford it?"

Ginny just rolled her eyes, though, and pushed past him. "At least my hair doesn't look like it glows in the dark," she said smugly, leaving the Slytherin standing with his lips parted in surprise.

* * *

_ 56. I will not teach the first years how to play "The Penis Game" in the Great Hall during dinner._

Umbridge sat in silence during dinner, just as she always did. She got the impression that none of the other teachers at Hogwarts liked her very much. That was fine with her though, for she didn't necessarily like them either. Still, it would be nice to occasionally partake in a conversation or two...

Suddenly, she heard a muffled sound come from the Gryffindor table, almost like a student meant to shout, but chickened out at the last second. She heard the Weasley girl say "Louder!" to the first years she was with, but thought nothing of it and instead went back to consuming her soup.

"Penis!" Someone in Gryffindor suddenly said. Silence filled the Great Hall as everyone sat there, not knowing what else to do. Umbridge's eyes widened as she scanned the hall for the culprit.

And then Ginny chimed in. "Penis!" she yelled louder then the first year.

"Penis!" someone from Hufflepuff screamed. Umbridge didn't know what to do - this was way too awkward a situation for her to handle alone, and none of the other teachers were making a move to help.

"Penis!"

"Penis!"

"PENIS!"

Umbridge, it appeared, would have to get used to this inappropriate game, however, for this was the first of 742 times The Penis Game would be played at Hogwarts. That year.

* * *

_57. I will not hand out slips of papers asking students to answer the following question: Do you think Snape is evil?_

"Come on now, Neville! It's an anonymous survey - so you have to answer it," Ron pleaded. "We value your opinion."

But Neville just shook his head. "I just know that Snape will find out what I think about him one way or another... I can't do it!"

"That may have been the first smart thing you've ever done in your life, Mr. Longbottom," a voice behind them mused. Spinning around, Neville and Ron both grew pale at the sight of Severus Snape standing there. "Mr. Weasley," he said, holding out his hand. "The parchment, please."

Reluctantly, Ron gave the slip of paper over to his professor. Snape stared down at it, trying to comprehend the sentiment behind the survey. Finally, he turned and began walking away. "That's _Professor _Snape, Mr. Weasley." Ron let out a sigh of relief... but a little too soon. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for inquiring if I was evil," Snape called over his shoulder.

Ron frowned. "Aw, suck it," he whispered to Neville before walking away.

* * *

_58. Modifying the old "pail of water over the door" trick to "pail of bubotuber pus over the door" is really frowned upon._

"Here she comes," Fred whispered, scurrying back to his brother's side as they waited behind the lounge chair in Umbridge's office, wearing Harry's invisibility cloak. "Quiet!" They sat in silence, eyes on the door in front of them and the pail balanced atop it...

The door opened quickly, and just like that, the pail of bubotuber pus fell... onto Cho Chang. She screamed as Umbridge entered her office behind the student, a look of surprise coloring her face as she thought about how that could have been her.

"What on earth..." she said quietly to herself as Cho started to cry.

Fred and George winced and exchanged nervous glances. If only Umbridge had been the one to turn that door knob...

"Now then," Harry said, clapping his hands together. "Lavender? Ginny? You're up."

* * *

_59. If a classmate falls asleep, I will not take advantage of that fact and draw a Dark Mark on their arm._

Harry sat bored to tears beside a sleeping Seamus in Umbridge's class one day in early December. Christmas fever was on its way, and he personally couldn't be bothered reading about defensive spells when he could be fantasizing about Christmas at Grimmauld Place.

Inspiration hit Harry suddenly as he remembered an item on Fred and George's list... Taking out his quill and ink, he pulled the sleeve of Seamus' shirt up and began to draw...

Over the summer, Harry vowed to take up sketching as a hobby, because his artwork was so realistic that Seamus spent an hour being interrogated by Umbridge under the Veritisum after the old toad saw the 'Dark Mark' on his arm.

* * *

_60. I will not sing, "We're Off To See The Wizard" when sent to the Headmaster's Office._

"Come on, Ron! We're going to be late!" Hermione called through the mass of students.

"Hermione, it's a prefects meeting at Dumbledore's office, it's not a race to football tickets at Britannia Stadium."

Hermione stopped to wait for Ron to catch up and raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know what that is?"

Ron shrugged. "Not really, but some muggle-born mentioned it, and well..."

"Enough," Hermione said, holding up a hand. "We have to get going. Are you ready?"

Ron nodded as he finally reached her, nearly tripping a Hufflepuff as he did so. "Ready."

"Brilliant," Hermione said. And with that, they linked arms and started to skip, paying no mind to those around them who they were trampling...

That was when the singing started.

_"We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz! Because, because, because, because, becauuuuuuuse... Because of the wonderful things he does!"_

* * *

This chapter has three new sections. Can you guess what they are? Last chapter, the new sections were 41, 42, and 48! Congrats to Kyra Trebon and kshadow for guessing correctly!

Out of this batch, I loved 53, 54, and 59. What about you?

In number 53, I have a few direct quotes from Shakespeare's _Macbeth_, fyi. It's not my favorite of Shakespeare's plays, but it can be fun to read.

This week's winner is SkuggaOfZilver! Congrats! And do check out their story Memoirs of a Millennia. I like the opening few lines!

Now for this week's contest. One reviewer will be chosen at random to receive both a shout-out and a review for one of their stories. The catch _this_ time is that the review must include what numbers you think are new for this chapter and your favorite numbers for this chapter. If you don't know, just guess! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	8. Things 61 to 70

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_61. I am not allowed to spread rumors that Umbridge's animagus transformation went horribly wrong and that's why she looks like a toad._

Professor Umbridge, once again, was struck with the undeniable notion that she _hated_ children. The whispers, the stares, the laughter... all directed at her! And why? _She_ certainly didn't know. It wasn't like those stupid brats would actually _tell _her anything. Unless...

With a gleam in her eye, she stormed down the third floor corridor and over to the Slytherin Prince himself, one Draco Malfoy. "What's going on?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"The students. They're gossiping. Why?"

He shrugged, a bit of tension appearing on his face. "Because they're students. They're young. It's what they do."

She smiled sweetly. "Now you _know_ that's not true, Mr. Malfoy. So be honest. Tell me what they're talking about. Unless, of course, you _want_ to lose your position as a Hogwarts prefect?"

Malfoy sighed before slowly shaking his head. "Professor, I'm not sure you _want_ to know-"

"Just tell me!"

"All right. The students..." he hesitated, before swallowing once and continuing on, "the students are talking about you."

"I know that!"

"They're saying that you're an animagus. A... a _toad _animagus, Professor. And that your transformation failed and that's... that's why you sort of... resemble a toad. So the students say!" Malfoy said, quickly holding up his hands in defense.

Her mouth dropped open a slight bit, before an uncharacteristically harsh glare came onto her face. "_Who started it!_" she said through her teeth.

Malfoy winced. "Er... that's the thing. No one knows. The - the entire school is talking about it, so-"

"Argh!" Umbridge shrieked, as she turned on her heel and hurried off down the corridor, cursing the existence of hormonal children.

Meanwhile, from behind the corner, Hermione Granger let out a small sigh of relief, happy that no one knew it was _she_ who had started the rumors.

* * *

_62. It is not acceptable to make parodies of a Professor's name._

"To Professor McGonagills!" Fred said, raising his bottle of butterbeer into the air.

"To McGonagills!" his fellow Gryffindors said, raising their own bottles up before lowering them to their lips and taking a sip. Term was ending in two weeks, and already the Gryffindors were ready to party like it was Christmas time.

And Fred and George, quite obviously, were the ones _leading_ the party. "To Professor Snake!" George announced, raising his bottle up high.

"To Snake!"

"To Professor Dumbridge!" Ron said, jumping onto the table in the common room.

"To Dumbridge!"

"These really aren't even that clever, you know," Hermione muttered with a shake of her head.

Beside her, Harry let out a chuckle, tilting his butterbeer slightly towards her in acknowledgment. "They certainly aren't. But let them have their fun. They might as well. I mean, what else are they going to do? _Homework_?"

Hermione glared at him. "Take that back."

"Never."

"To the dead Professor Squirrel!"

"To the dead Squirrel!"

* * *

_63. A ferret is not a proper Christmas gift for Draco Malfoy._

Ginny and her brothers watched the flock of owls above their heads expectantly as the mail came in, waiting for one specific owl to arrive... They didn't have to wait for long, as finally, a brown barn owl landed beside Draco Malfoy, carrying a large, oblong-shaped package...

Malfoy glanced at the top of the parcel, but found no note there. He shrugged, and opened it quickly, curious as to what might be inside and who was sending him something the week before Christmas. As he pulled the paper off of the parcel, he saw a note attached to the top of the box.

_Here's your twin!_

_-G. "Weaslette" Weasley_

It took him a second to process what the note was saying, but as he opened the box, a feeling of dread filled his gut... And as his eyes beheld the snowy white ferret curled up into a ball in the box, he knew why. Malfoy's face grew red as his fellow Slytherins began next to him began laughing.

"What the bloody hell is this!" he snapped, a glare creeping onto his reddened face. At the next table over, the Gryffindors started to laugh at his reaction.

It wasn't until Ginny returned to her dormitory that she received an answering note from Malfoy.

_Weaslette, _it read.

_Despite the cruel intentions behind this present, this is probably the first well-thought out gift I've received in a while._

_-D. "Ferret-Boy" Malfoy_

_PS - I named him Frost._

_Well how about that_, Ginny mused. The Slytherin prince had a heart after all. Life was weird.

* * *

_64. Novelty or holiday themed ties are not to be worn with my school uniform._

Professor McGonagall sighed as she stared down at the terrible twosome sitting in her office. It appeared that she'd seen _more_ of Fred and George Weasley than usual this year, thanks to Umbridge. That stupid witch was making her life much too difficult... "All right, you two," she said, raising an eyebrow. "What is it this time?"

"I don't know what you mean, Professor," George said with a look of utmost innocence.

"We weren't doing anything wrong," Fred continued. "Just minding our own business-"

"When _Umbridge-_ er, Professor Umbridge," George corrected quickly. "Grabbed us both by the arms and told us we had detention."

"We were astonished."

"Shocked."

"Surprised."

"Hurt."

"Saddened."

"Angered."

"Mystifi-"

"I get it," McGonagall said, cutting them off. "But _why_ did she give you detention."

"She said she didn't like our _ties_," Fred said with a roll of his eyes. "Of all the ridiculous reasons... Just because she doesn't agree with our fashion senses, that doesn't give her the right to assign us _detention_!"

But McGonagall didn't blink. "And just what ties were you two wearing?"

Fred and George sighed. They were hoping she wouldn't ask that... Slowly, the two boys opened their robes to show red and green stripped ties that were covered in flashing lights that spelt out "Merry Christmas!"

Their head of house blinked. "Well, that certainly _would_ be distracting."

"Professor-"

"Don't," she said with a shake of her head. "Honestly, the number of daft things you two have done this year..."

* * *

_65. I will not ask Harry if his Scar Senses are tingling_

Ron woke _way_ too early in the morning a few days before the holiday break was due to begin. One moment, he had been fast asleep and dreaming of kittens and Hermione Granger... and the next he had been painfully wrenched from the romantic dream and tossed back into reality. And why did he wake up, you may ask? Because Harry freaking Potter was screaming. That stupid little-

Ron rolled out of bed, kneeling by Harry and shaking his best friend awake. "Harry! Harry, mate. What's wrong?"

"No!" Harry yelled, before his eyes shot open. He sat up, his eyes wide with fear as he clutched his scar in pain. His jittery gaze sweep the room, before finally coming to rest on his best friend. "Ron," he groaned. "Oh, Merlin, no!"

As scared as Ron was, and as worried about his best friend as he was, he couldn't pass up a chance this great. "Harry, mate... are your Scar Senses tingling?"

Despite the pain in his forehead, Harry was still coherent enough to flip Ron the bird.

* * *

_66. I'm not allowed to Ask Lupin if it's his 'Time of the Month'_

Things had finally settled down again after the Arthur Weasley at the Ministry fiasco. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children were all at Grimmauld Place with Lupin and Sirius. Ron's father was due home from St. Mungo's the next day, and Lupin was busy running around to make sure everything was perfect so that the injured man would be comfortable.

"What are you doing?" he snapped at Ron as the teenager stumbled out of his room and into the library around midday. "Your father just got _attacked_. Why aren't you helping me get a room ready?"

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron behind Lupin's back. Ron just shook his head. "Sorry. Couldn't sleep last night. But whatever you need-" He moved a pillow to the other side of the couch... and promptly got yelled at.

"No! That's _not_ where that is supposed to go! Merlin, can you do _anything_ right?"

Harry and Ron exchanged tight glances before Ron turned back to Lupin, a look of compassion on his face. "Lupin, mate... is it your time of the month?"

It's a good thing Hermione was handy with healing spells, otherwise Mrs. Weasley would probably have never forgiven Lupin for hitting Ron so hard...

* * *

_67. I am not to get Sirius Black any dog toy for a present._

"Merry Christmas!" Fred and George exclaimed on that memorable morning.

"Happy Christmas," Sirius responded cheerfully.

"We got you something, Sirius," Fred said with excitement.

"Did you now?" Sirius said with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. We think you're really going to love it," George said, giving Sirius a tube wrapped in red paper.

"Well," Sirius said, taking it from them. "That's very thoughtful of you two..." he trailed off, pulling the object out of its wrappings. It was a bone. A dog bone.

Although he looked slightly crestfallen upon opening his gift, Fred and George caught him playing with it in his dog form two days later.

* * *

_68. Do not jump out at Mad-Eye Moody as a joke._

Moody was walking down the hall of number twelve Grimmauld Place right before one of the Order of the Phoenix meetings. He wasn't sure _why_ Dumbledore had insisted on postponing the meeting until after Christmas - Arthur Weasley had been _attacked! _They shouldn't have waited to meet! His peg-leg clunked ominously on the floor as he limped onwards down the corridor, looking back and forth in suspicion...

Something suddenly jumped out at him. "Boo!" it shouted.

"Stupify!" Moody growled, instinctively pointing his wand at his attacker. The boy fell to the ground, and Moody realized it was none other then Fred Weasley. "Brilliant," Moody said gruffly as he stepped over the boy's body.

Molly was going to kill him.

* * *

_69. I will not ask Sirius if he was neutered._

"Where do you think you're going?" a deep voice from behind Fred.

He jumped, turning around to see Sirius standing behind him. "No where," Fred said quickly. He glanced towards the front door of Grimmauld Place and then back to the man before him. "No where."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "And yet somehow, I don't believe you."

"Well, I... don't-"

"More importantly, where's George?" Sirius asked. "You two aren't planning some kind of ridiculous stunt, are you-"

"No!" Fred said quickly. He sighed. So much for subtlety. "George doesn't... know that I'm leaving. And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell him."

"Really, now?" Sirius said, a sly smirk slipping onto his face. "And why, pray tell, should I keep your desired excursion a secret from him?"

"Because I... you just should!"

"It doesn't matter," Sirius said with a shake of his head. "You can't go, anyway. So you just might as well head back upstairs and-"

"What? But-"

"It's too dangerous!" Sirius pointed out. "And it's the middle of the bloody night! Go back to bed."

"But I'm..." he bit his lip, before cautiously divulging his secret. "I'm going to meet up with Katie Bell."

"Ah," Sirius said, understanding washing over him. "A girl. I should have guessed."

"So you can see why I have to go," Fred said, taking a step towards the door.

"I can. But you still can't go."

"What? Sirius-"

"It's much too dangerous," Sirius said, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. Fred scowled in response. "You could get hurt. Now I'm sure she'll understand that you couldn't make it and she'll be happy to meet with you some other time. During the day. When it's safe."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Oh, that sounds lovely." He shook his head, giving the older man a quick glance. "It's like you have no feeling for the poor, weak, untouched young men like myself. It's like you've been neutered." He paused, his eyes widening. "Have you?"

A growl escaped from Sirius' lips, and he hit the boy lightly on the back of the head. "Go to bed," he said gruffly. "Or I'll tell both George and _Molly_ what you were up to."

* * *

_70. I'm not allowed to reply to everything that Professor Lupin says with, "Are you fucking Sirius?"_

"...so you _can't_ go outside, Sirius," Lupin said, as around him, people began to wake up, having slept through his entirely dull and long speech about Sirius' safety. "Because you might get caught by the ministry. Or worse, Death Eaters."

Ginny rolled her eyes as she perked up. "That's why he can't go out? Professor, are you fucking Sirius?"

Even though Ginny's sentence made sense within the conversation, the double meaning of her words wasn't lost on anyone, least of all Sirius who grumbled something about it being, "just one time" as Lupin turned red.

* * *

This chapter has four new sections. Can you guess what they are? Last chapter, the new sections were 51, 53, and 55! Congrats to kshadow for guessing correctly! This is twice in a row that you've gotten it right! Congrats!

Out of this batch, I loved 62, 63, 65, 66, and 70. What about you?

This week's winner is chewinggumandpencils! Congrats! And do check out their story Regrets. It's written in second person format, and the author did a spectacular job of using the unusual point of view!

Now for this week's contest. One reviewer will be chosen at random to receive both a shout-out and a review for one of their stories. The catch _this_ time is that the review must include what numbers you think are new for this chapter and your favorite numbers for this chapter. If you don't know, just guess! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	9. Things 71 to 80

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_71. I am not to use the Floo System to play a game of "Ultimate Tag"._

Ginny escaped through the Floo to the fireplace in the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts. She was sure that nobody in Slytherin had stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas, and that she'd be safe there for awhile. Besides, Harry, or 'it', wouldn't think to look for her in the Slytherin dorms.

She looked around, setting her watch alarm for two minutes from them - she figured she had a few minutes before she needed to move again. After she sent her watch, she looked around. The Slytherin common room wasn't too different from the Gryffindor common room, truth be told. It was a little darker, and there was way too much green for Ginny's taste, however.

"What are you doing here?" a voice from behind her inquired.

Spinning around, Ginny looked deep into Draco Malfoy's gray eyes. "Malfoy?" she asked. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you home for the holidays?"

"You did get my note, didn't you?" Malfoy smiled ruefully. "That should be explanation enough."

Ginny took a step towards him. "Malfoy, I'm so-" but she was cut off as the alarm on her watch beeped. "Damn," she cursed. Turning back to the blond, she said, "I've got to go." She spun around and grabbed some of the Floo powder from beside the fireplace, but before she could go, Draco grabbed her arm.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked.

She smiled, throwing the powder into the fireplace as she did so. "We're playing a game of Ultimate Tag."

* * *

_72. I may not refer to Sirius Black as 'Seriously Black'._

Harry, George, and Ginny were sitting in the kitchen one day a week before they needed to return to Hogwarts, discussing the finer points of Quidditch as a sport when Sirius entered the room, looking depressed rather depressed. The school break was almost over, and soon, everyone would leave and he'd be alone again.

George smiled at Harry's guardian, a look of compassion upon his face. George liked Sirius a lot, and he hated seeing him sad. So he tried to cheer him up. "Hey Seriously Black. How are you?"

George's plan backfired; Sirius wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the day.

* * *

_73. Synchronized panicking is not a proper battle plan._

School was due to start the next day, and everyone was feeling sort of morbid about this, especially Harry. The teenager could not for the life of him understand why they couldn't be involved in the Order, considering what had happened to Mr. Weasley, and all.

Finally, the boy snapped. "Sirius, why can't we know what the Order is doing?" he said forcefully, causing everyone in the room to jump.

Moody answered before Sirius could. "Because you don't know how to fight; you don't have any plans of attack."

"We do too!"

"Really?" Lupin said wearily. "Like what?"

"Like, uh..."

Hermione jumped in to save her friend. "We have synchronized panicking. Now when we're in battle and scared to death, we can all express our concerns together."

* * *

_74. Robes are appropriate school wear. Bathrobes are not._

"What are you two wearing?" McGonagall asked, as her eyes widened. Fred and George Weasley sat down in Transfiguration on the first day back from break, innocent looks upon their faces. In retrospect, she shouldn't have been surprised - it _was_, after all, the Weasley twins. They were known for pulling ridiculous stunts...

"Our robes, Professor," George said, blinking innocently as he pulled the red terrycloth bathrobe tighter across his chest.

"Why? Is there a problem?" Fred said as he wiggled his toes in his gold colored slippers.

"School robes," McGonagall seethed. "You're supposed to wear school robes!"

"But we put the Hogwarts crest on them," Fred protested. "See?" Turning around, Fred and George showed the emblem for the four houses on the back of their matching bathrobes. McGonagall smacked herself on the forehead in frustration.

* * *

_75. I will not tell Professor Trelawney that I foresaw her death._

"Look _into_ the crystal ball," Professor Trelawney breathed during on lesson. "_Feel_ the magic of the future. _See_ the world that shall be. Look. Look."

"I'm looking," Ron muttered to Harry. "All I see her bloody awful reflection staring back at me!"

"Use your inner eye. See beyond life itself!" She swept her arms out in a grand gesture and then sighed. "Feel the Sight course through you, feel the future take hold of you, feel-"

Harry, by this point, had had _enough_ 'feeling.' He needed for her to stop babbling about the Sight and other such nonsense. So he threw himself backwards in his chair, a horrified gasp escaping his lips. "No!" he cried. "No!"

Trelawney rushed over, a look of intrigue on her face. "What is it, boy? What do you see?"

Harry turned towards her as a feigned sob wrenched through his body. "You! You... You're going to die."

A hush fell over the classroom as all of the students turned to watch their Professor. She paled, but took the news considerably well. Lifting her chin, she asked, "And how, exactly, shall I meet my fate?"

"Er-" he blinked; he hadn't been prepared for that. "A dog," he said, thinking quickly. "A dog will maul you to death."

Trelawney nodded solemnly before choking on a sob. "I knew it," she whispered. "I knew it. I have seen the Grim! And now, the Grim shall kill me."

* * *

_76. I'm not allowed to yell BAMF every time I walk into a room._

Snape sighed. School was back in session for the rest of the year, and he was back to teaching the dunderheads. Potions was about to begin, and Snape was dreading class more than he ever had before. The post-Christmas excitement always made the children rowdy and extra insipid - class was going to be hell.

"BAMF!"

Snape jumped in surprise, nearly dropping the quill he held in one hand as he turned around. Ron Weasley had just walked through the door to the dungeons, his head held high, despite the fact that everybody was staring at him.

"Mr. Weasley," Snape drawled as he glared at the young Gryffindor._ Idiot, _Snape thought. "Please refrain from shouting nonsense in my classroom."

Ron pouted - yes _pouted_, Snape noticed with a sneer - at him. "But Professor, I have to yell BAMF when I walk into the room."

Snape's lip curled. "I'm going to regret asking this, but why, pray tell, is that?"

Ron grinned at the potions master. "Because I'm a Bad-Ass Mother Fucker!"

* * *

_77. Professor Flitwick will not perform tricks for money._

"A cartwheel?"

"No."

"A handstand?"

"No!"

"A back handspring?"

"Merlin, Miss Weasley, no!" Flitwick said with a violent shake of his head. "No!"

"But you're so little... like one of the people Hermione showed me muggle pictures of. She said she used to watch short people like you wear big red shoes and a red nose, and perform tricks for money." Ginny's eyes lit up. "I could pay you-"

"No!"

* * *

_78. I will not tell Umbridge "Voldemort says, 'Hi,'" every time I see her._

"Did you _have_ to say what BAMF stood for?" Hermione asked Ron in anger at they made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "You couldn't have just left it at that?"

"Well he asked!" Ron argued.

"No he did not! He asked _why_ you did it."

Ron grumbled, "Same thing." They walked through the door. "BAMF!" Ron yelled again, gathering the attention of Umbridge and his classmates.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Did you have to do that _again_?"

"It's on the list."

"But you already did that-" Umbridge began to walk over to them.

"The list says every time," Ron pointed out.

"But-"

"No."

"That's not-"

"So what?"

"You can't-"

"Oh, just get a room!" Harry said with a roll of his eyes as he brushed past Umbridge. "Oh, and Professor." Umbridge turned toward the Boy Who Lived expectantly. "Voldemort says 'hi.'"

* * *

_79. I'm not allowed to get into fights._

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the mudblood and the weasel," a voice drawled from behind them after class that day. "Have you two gotten a room yet?" His cronies behind him started to laugh.

"Clever, Malfoy," Hermione said, grabbing Ron by the arm and pulling him away.

"Where are you going? Are you running away because you can't take the heat," he laughed again.

Hermione stopped; she'd had enough of him. She was having a bad enough day as it was. She had gotten an E on her potions essay. An_ E!_ What was wrong with her? And on top of that, the Gryffindors were already teasing her about Ron... when nothing was going on! She _really_ did not need Malfoy to start in on her either.

So she punched him.

Again.

* * *

_80. I am not allowed to charm Professor Trelawney's teacups to always have a Grim at the bottom. Having said that I'm also not allowed to hire Sirius Black to chase her around the school in his dog form_

Professor Trelawney was going to die.

At least, that's what she believed. For the third time that week, her teacup had the Grim at the bottom. Yesterday, she had woken to find the Grim in her crystal ball... and it wouldn't go away! Even when she tried looking for something else in her future!

As she was walking out of the castle one day, shaking with nerves, Harry and Ron approached her. "Morning Professor," they said. She let out a little shriek, jumping in fear at the possibility of her untimely demise -

And then paused when she realized nothing dire had occurred. "Oh." she sighed with relief. "It's just you two."

"Are you all right, Professor?" Ron asked, fighting a grin.

"Yes, yes I'm fine. I just - Oh dear Merlin!" With a shaking hand, she pointed off into the distance. "The Grim! It's the Grim! No!" And with that, she started running towards the Quidditch pitch, hoping to escape the horrible Grim...

Ron turned to Harry. "So what do we owe Sirius for doing this?"

Harry shrugged. "Not much. He just said he wanted us to tell Fred and George to send him another one of those bones they got him for Christmas. Apparently, he lost his."

* * *

This chapter has three new sections. Can you guess what they are? Last chapter, the new sections were 61, 62, 64, and 69! Congrats to kshadow for guessing correctly! This is three times in a row that you've gotten it right! Congrats!

Out of this batch, I loved 71, 76, and 78. What about you?

So I owe you all an apology. Life has gotten in the way, and I've had zero time to work on this. I am so sorry it's been so long since I've updated! The good news is that the semester ends next week! So I will officially be able to resume the weekly updates starting next week. Thank you all for sticking with this, and I'm so sorry it's been so long!

This week's winner is Rwy'n-Y-Blaidd-Drwg! Congrats! And do check out their story Harry Potter Question and Answer session. This is actually a really good idea, and I like how unique it is!

Now for this week's contest. Since I accidentally bailed on you and I feel like I owe you, everyone who does the following will receive a review from me! In order to receive a review from me, you must review this chapter! The catch is that the review must include the phrase "Copper Boom". A bonus review will go to anyone who can tell me where that's from! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	10. Things 81 to 90

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_81. Shouting 'constant vigilance' at first years as a warning before hexing them is not acceptable._

Ron Weasley was _not_ in a good mood. He'd accidentally overslept, burnt his toe in the shower, and now he was running late for potions. Potions! Snape was going to kill him.

As he sprinted down the staircase, stumbled around the corner, and dove towards the dungeons, he was forced to come to an unceremonious halt. For there, flooding the hallway that led to his potions classroom, were a slew of first year students mindlessly milling about. Ron's stomach dropped; there was no way he'd make it in time. Unless...

With a renewed sense of determination, Ron stepped forward, raised his wand, and shouted, "constant vigilance!" Then he began to force his way through the crowd, cursing the bewildered first years out of his way as he went.

* * *

_82. I'm not allowed to scream in the middle of the night for no reason._

Ron Weasley was exhausted. After procrastinating endlessly on his Charms paper, he'd had to write the entire eight foot essay in one night. As he stumbled up the stairs and into the bedroom he shared with the other Gryffindor boys, his eyelids began to droop, coming closer and closer to closing. _This is the _last_ time I study until four o'clock in the morning,_ he thought to himself as he pulled back the covers of his bed and climbed in, still fully dressed. All he wanted to do was sleep...

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Ron's eyes snapped fully open, and within a moment he had jumped from his bed. He darted over to where Harry slept and flicked on the light, prepared to find his friend writhing about in agony, a vision fresh on his mind. "Harry! Harry are you okay? Is it You-Know-Who? Is he..." He trailed off, his eyes coming to rest on Harry's calm demeanor. "Harry?"

"Hello," Harry said, giving his best mate a small smile.

"Bloody hell," Seamus groaned. "Must you _always_ scream in the middle of the night?"

"Go back to bed, Seamus," Dean muttered, already rolling over in his bed.

"Harry," Ron said slowly, "are you all right?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine, Ron. How are you?"

"Good. Good, yeah... Harry... why did you scream?"

Once again, the Boy-Who-Lived shrugged. "Dunno," he said with a grin. "It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"Right, okay. Yeah... One more thing." Ron smacked his best mate on the top of his head, a snarl building up in the redhead's throat. "Don't you _ever_ do that again! You _scared_ me!"

"Well, maybe next time you could not come home at four in the morning," Harry countered, swatting Ron's hand away.

"And maybe next time," Seamus snapped, "you _both_ could shut the hell up!"

* * *

_83. When being interrogated by a member of the staff, I am not to wave my hand and announce "These are not the droids you are looking for."_

"Ginny Weasley! I can't believe you, hiding Madam Pomfrey's supply of chocolate," McGonagall gestured angrily to the pile of chocolate on top of the redhead's bed. "What on earth were you thinking?"

Ginny quickly looked to the chocolate, looked to her professor, and looked back to the chocolate again, not wanting to confess to her hideous crime. Thinking quickly, she made a decision, a decision to use the unique talents of a true wizard.

Wavering her hand in front of McGonagall's face, she said calmly, "These are not the droids... er, candies, you are looking for."

* * *

_84. I am not to substitute, alter, hide, or otherwise tamper with Professor Dumbledore's candy._

An emergency meeting was called one Saturday afternoon late in January. The entire school was forced to attend and spend their afternoon off in the Great Hall, waiting with baited breath to find out what was wrong.

"You reckon the school's been threatened?" Ginny asked with a frown.

"Again?" Hermione and Harry said at the same time.

"No, that can't be it," Fred said, his eyebrows furrowed in wonder. "We would be locked up if that was it."

Ron shook his head. "Well then what the bloody hell-"

They were interrupted as the doors to the Great Hall banged open. Dumbledore stormed in, his face red with ire. The students of Hogwarts were shocked to see the furry etched out upon the old man's face, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Who did it?" he yelled. "Who took my candy?"

Fred and George shrunk down in their seats, hoping the headmaster would forget they were there.

"Seriously?" Ginny muttered, looking at her brothers. "Why would you do that?"

"Well you took Pomfrey's chocolate without a problem," Fred confessed. "We just thought we could one-up you without incident. Apparently, we were mistaken..."

* * *

_85. When asked a question by Professor Snape I will not ask him to get the answer by _Legilimency_ to give me a chance to practice Occlumency._

"Who knew that Dumbledore would flip out about the candy?" Ron whispered to Harry the next afternoon in potions class. "He usually seems so mellow..."

"Really, I feel bad for Fred and George. All of those detentions..." Harry said, shaking his head as Snape droned on.

"Would you two stop talking?" Hermione hissed. "You should be paying attention!"

"Aw, come on Hermione," Ron whined. "You've got to admit, it was weird."

"That doesn't matter! This might be on the O.W.L.'s!"

"But-"

"Dear Merlin, just stop fighting and get a room," Harry snapped at them.

"We weren't bloody fighting!"

"You were about to-"

"Mr. Potter," Snape interrupted, drawing everyone's attention back to the Golden Trio in the last row. "What, may I inquire, is so much more important than the lesson?" He tapped his foot impatiently.

Harry's eyes grew wide at having been caught. "Well sir," he said slowly. "Perhaps you could use Legilimency to find out. That way I can practice Occlumency."

Snape blinked for a second, surprised by Harry's audacity, but then he spoke. "I would take off house points for the cheek, Mr. Potter, but I know you're going to get what you deserve in terms of embarrassment and ridicule once everyone realizes just how bad at Occlumency you are."

* * *

_86. Bringing fortune cookies to Divination Class does not count as extra credit._

"Mr. Weasley, what _are_ these things?" Trelawney asked, a confused look on her face.

"Fortune cookies, Professor," Ron said, holding out the tray to his teacher. "They tell your future. Want one?" She sniffed, before taking a cookie and staring at it expectantly. "You have to break it in half, Professor."

"Ah," Trelawney said, snapping the cookie in half quickly. She couldn't read the paper by herself, despite the huge glasses she wore, and had to find even bigger glasses to see the slip. "'You will soon have good fortune,'" she read, puzzled.

Ron nodded. "See, aren't they brilliant? I brought enough for everyone. I was hoping I could get extra credit with them..."

Trelawney scoffed. "Are you mad? This Confucius... he obviously knows nothing about the art of Divination. I shall not have good fortune. I've seen the Grim."

* * *

_87. Voldemort does NOT need a hug._

_Dear He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named aka You Know Who aka the Dark Lord aka Tom,_

_We understand that your life is exceptionally difficult right now - given that you were considered _dead_ less than a year ago - however, we feel that your anger and genocidal tendencies are a little extreme. Killing muggle-borns and taking over the world won't win you the respect and recognition that you so clearly crave. All it will do is make people dead. And that's bad._

_So we have come up with an alternate solution that we'd like you to consider! We call it give-You-Know-Who-a-hug day! On such a day, you would stand in the center of Diagon Alley and wizards and witches from all over the community would show up to give you a hug. This would help to illustrate their respect and appreciation for you, and it would remove the need for you to revolutionize the wizarding world in order to show your power. Really, we all know that you're a strong wizard without all of the excess violence you display. You don't need to keep proving it to us. We know._

_We hope that you'll consider our proposal, for we find it to be an ingenious solution to this pesky brewing war._

_Cheers!_

_-WWW _

* * *

_88. Asking Professor Flitwick if there is a charm to remove clothing is wrong on so many levels._

Ginny raised her hand high one afternoon in her Charms class. "Yes, Miss Weasley?" Flitwick squeaked, pointing to the red head quickly.

"Professor, I have a serious problem, and I was wondering..." she trailed off, portraying an innocent air. "If I asked it, would you answer honestly?"

Flitwick's eyes grew wide at this statement. Crap. This was a teenage _girl_ asking him to help solve her personal problems in front of his class. What on earth was he supposed to do about this? "Um, maybe now might not be the best time for this, Miss-"

"See," Ginny continued on, acting as though she hadn't heard him. "There's this guy that I really like, and he likes me too, but it's complicated..."

"And you want to know what to do about it," Flitwick said, paling slightly. He was _so_ not equipped to deal with this sort of thing-

Ginny blinked in surprise. "Actually, no," she said firmly. "I already know what to do about it. What I don't know is an easy charm to remove clothing. Do you know of any?" If it was possible, Flitwick paled even more.

* * *

_89. I am not allowed to call Peeves Casper the Friendly Ghost._

"What's this I hear about you wanting to get down and dirty with someone, Ginny?" Ron asked his little sister that day, his face as red as his hair. The two of them and Harry were walking to lunch after Quidditch practice.

"Who uses the phrase 'down and dirty?' It's a wee bit antiquated, dear brother." Ginny glanced at Ron and saw that he was clearly not amused. She sighed. "Oh, calm down, Ron. He didn't actually give me a spell," Ginny said casually as they passed a taunting Peeves.

Ron stopped. "Wait a minute. That means there _is_ a guy?" Ginny cringed, as if she wished he hadn't picked up on this. "Who? It had better be a first year, or I swear to Merlin, I'll-"

"Oh, hey Casper," Harry said suddenly, giving Peeves a wave. He was glad to draw attention away from the feuding siblings.

Peeves stopped suddenly, cocking his transparent head to the side. "What did you call me, Potty?"

Harry shrugged. "Your new name."

* * *

_90. I'm not allowed to scream "Run Forest, run" as the teachers sprint off to stop a crisis._

Hermione was tired.

School had only been back in session for a few weeks, and it seemed that every professor had decided that their class was not only the most important, but the one that needed to give out the most homework.

Of course, none of them could best Snape in giving out obscene amounts of work, but some came pretty close...

It was as, Hermione was walking slowly to Arithmancy and contemplating the apocalypse that surely was happening since she was actually complaining (albeit mentally), about school. Suddenly, a bang went off on the first floor. McGonagall and Snape both jumped from her classroom at the same time and began running towards the marble staircase.

She wondered what the two of them were doing together... but her suspicions could wait until later. Instead, she jumped to the side as they sprinted past, and yelled, "Run Forest, run!"

* * *

This chapter has four new sections. Can you guess what they are? Last chapter, the new sections were 75, 77, 79!

Out of this batch, I loved 82, 85, 87, and 90. What about you?

Now for this week's contest. Out of anyone who reviews this chapter, I'll randomly pick one of the people, give them a special shout-out next chapter, and give them a review! It's the least I can do to thank you all! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	11. Things 91 to 100

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_91. I will not attempt to use the Whomping Willow to perform a Tarzan swing._

"Ohhhhhahhohh... Oh! Ow, Merlin, that hurt!"

"I told you to avoid the branches, Fred," George said as he grabbed ahold of the vine in front of him and took his own swing. "Whoohoo! Ow!"

"Not so easy, is it?" Fred smirked at his brother. "And since when does Tarzan yell 'whoohoo?'"

"Since now." Suddenly, George spotted a lone figure walking towards the tree hesitantly. "Hey Hermione, what's up?"

"What are you two doing now?" she called up to them skeptically.

"George! That's not Hermione," Fred admonished. He turned back to the brunette who stood far enough away to avoid getting hit. "Hey Jane," he said seductively. "Want to take a ride on my vine?"

Even without the sexual connotation, Hermione wasn't stupid enough to fall for that one.

* * *

_92. I may not question Ernie as to where 'Bert' is._

It was a drunken Dumbledore's Army meeting that did it.

Everyone was so glad to have the meetings once again as a constant in their lives after Christmas break that they decided to let loose instead of learn anything new. While Hermione was originally against the idea of fun over learning, she eventually loosened up...

...once the Weasley twins brought the fire whisky in.

The bookworm laughed uncontrollably on the floor, completely unable to hold her liquor - unlike the rest of them. Ernie approached her, sitting down besides Hermione in an attempt to calm her down.

"Oh Merlin," she squealed when she saw him. "Ernie, oh Ernie! Where's Bert, Ernie? Where's Bert?" She promptly started to giggle again.

It was at that drunken Dumbledore's Army meeting that everyone decided to never let Hermione drink again.

It was also there that Fred and George got the pictures they were going to blackmail Hermione with later in her life.

* * *

_93. I am not to conjure the words "DRINK ME" onto the vial of any potion in Snape's classroom._

"Are you ready?" Harry muttered from the doorway of the storage cupboard.

"Almost," Ron whispered, grabbing the love potion and putting the label on it.

"Hurry up," Harry snapped nervously. "We don't want to get caught!"

"Done! Let's go." They bolted from the classroom, never looking back. Once they were far enough away, Ron turned to Harry. "So, do you think anyone's going to fall for it?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno. I hope so, though."

Less than a week later, Goyle was in the Hospital Wing for a day, having drunken a 'bottle that told him to drink it' and consequentially fallen in love with Professor Minerva McGonagall.

* * *

_94. I will not give Voldemort a toupee to hide his baldness._

"Master... Master, please. I-"

The Dark Lord's lip curled as he glared down at his sniveling servant in disgust. "So," he hissed, "you really wish to disobey me, Wormtail?" He began to pace, circling the trembling man like a hawk circling its prey. "You really think it wise to disturb me when I quite clearly told you not to?"

"Master, no! P-please, please forgive me!" he stammered as he squeezed his eyes shut. "But, I thought you'd want to know... a p-package arrived for you t-today. By owl. Please-"

The Dark Lord placed one of his gnarled and worn hands on Wormtail's shoulder. He bent down low, drawing his face up against the quaking man's cheek. "Did it now?" He ran a long, crooked finger down the man's throat. "Well? What are you waiting for? Bring it to me!"

He pulled back, and Wormtail squeaked in relief. "Yes, of course. Of course, Master." He bowed and reached behind him, pulling out a small white box. "Here. Here it is."

"Hold it," the Dark Lord said as he raised his wand, scanning the foreign object for curses or dark enchantments. Upon finding nothing, he gestured to Wormtail. "Open the box," he said, his eyes trained on the bright white lid. "Do it."

Nodding frantically, Wormtail reached down and pulled the lid from the box, terrified that something would spring forth and attack him... but nothing happened. He cautiously reached inside the box and pulled a large black wig from it. "What?" he muttered to himself, before grabbing hold of the note that lay at the bottom of the box.

"Read it," the Dark Lord spat, his eyes forming a rough glare as he stared at the toupee.

Wormtail swallowed. "As you wish, Master." He took a deep breath and began to read the note aloud:

_To He-Who-Really-Needs-a-Hobby,_

_We just thought you might like this. It'll be easier for others to take you seriously if you aren't bald._

_Cheers!_

_-WWW_

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed, becoming nothing more than two slits as he glared at Wormtail. "Find them," he said. His voice was soft, dangerous. "Find them and bring them to me. They will pay for what they've done. Oh yes," he hissed. "They will pay."

* * *

_95. I am not allowed to add "That's what she said" to the end of Snape's every sentence._

"Today, we shall be working with dragon scales," Snape droned on at the beginning of his lesson for fifth years. "One must actually use their _minds_ when dealing with the scales. They are long, and very powerful."

"That's what she said."

Snape's head whipped in the direction of the voice as around him, all of the muggle-borns and half-bloods laughed. What was so funny about that? Shaking his head, he kept a careful eye on everyone as he began to speak again. "You must handle them delicately."

"That's what she said."

Again, the class began to laugh. Snape narrowed his eyes on the left half of the room. He almost had the culprit... "In order for the potion to work, before you add them you must stroke the side gently-"

"That's what she said."

Snape glared at the Gryffindor boy. "Detention, Mr. Weasley. For speaking nonsense and hindering my performance."

In retrospect, perhaps Ron should have just kept quiet. But the opportunity was _way_ too good to pass up... He grinned. "That's what she said."

* * *

_96. I'm not to tell first years that kissing Professor Umbridge will magically turn her into a nicer person. _

Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister himself, was in shock. Not only were students still disobeying her Educational Decrees, but it appeared that they were taking them as a challenge to see who could defy the most! That was not at all what she had been intending. No, if anything she'd been trying to make the school a more orderly place, not the nightmare it was turning into.

But her shock didn't stem from the discipline-starved children or their rebellious ways. Umbridge's shock came from the fact that she kept _getting kissed_. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, even Slytherins all came up to her at random intervals throughout the day and kissed her on the cheek. All of the students were first years, and all of the students looked rather disappointed afterwards, as though they'd expected her to start snogging them or something! It was obscene, it was uncalled for, and she was not going to tolerate it!

And then it got even worse.

One day, as she was walking briskly through the corridor, she became aware of a hushed conversation occurring behind a suit of armor. Curious, she stopped and strained her ears to see what they were saying.

"No!" an older student's voice snapped. "It's not rubbish. You're just doing it wrong!"

"You said a kiss!" a young female voice protested angrily. "That's what we did!"

"Yeah," the older boy said with a snort. "On the _cheek_. You really think that counts?"

"You mean... on the _lips_? Are you _mad_?" a young male said in horror.

"Do you want to break the spell or not?"

Umbridge's eyebrows rose. Spell? What spell? Were these idiotic children playing with magic? _Well_ she thought to herself, a small smile forming over her toad-like features. _This certainly won't do at all._ Clearing her throat, she made her presence known to the three students behind the suit of armor... Er, the _two_ students, anyway. It appeared the older one had managed to slip away...

_Drat_, she thought, before smiling sweetly down at the two first years. _Oh, well. I'll get him eventually._ Out loud, she said, "Well, well. What seems to be going on here? You're not planning anything improper, I hope. Because then, you see, I'd have to punish-"

She was abruptly cut off, however, as the young first year boy clenched his eyes shut, stood on his toes, leaned forward, and kissed her square on the mouth.

Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the two in front of her, both of whom were groaning in disappointment. "What, in the name of _Merlin_-"

"Sorry, Professor," the boy said, sighing. He spoke quickly, as though he were repeating something that he'd rehearsed. "Draco Malfoy told us that if we kissed you on the lips, you'd become a nicer person."

As Umbridge gaped at the pair of them in shock, from around the corner, Ron Weasley silently laughed at the look of horror in the old toad's eyes.

* * *

_97. Voldemort does not wish to appear as the "before" for a line of cosmetics._

"Step right up! Come and get WWW cosmetics," Fred called into the crowd of excited spectators during one lunch period.

"Are you looking ugly lately?" George said as everyone focused in on the twins' speech. "Dry skin? Red eyes? Pale and in serious need of a tan?"

"Sort of like this guy," Fred said as he waved his wand. A picture of the Dark Lord himself blew up on the wall.

The crowd roared with laughter at the implication the twins were making. "See, we can help," George said with a grin. "Buy some of WWW cosmetics today! They're great for-"

"Hold it right there!" Everyone held their breaths, turning as one to view Umbridge push her way through the crowd. "WWW? That was the same logo as the one on the Halloween posters! Did you two have something to do with that?"

Fred sighed and turned to his brother. "Well, I'll tell you one thing, mate. She's got one heck of a memory..."

* * *

_98. I am not to scream "VOLDEMORT!" at any time unless in confines of a sound proof room._

It was a sunny afternoon in mid-February. The birds were singing, the Whomping Willow was hitting things, and many students were outside, enjoying their day off by sitting under a tree or playing catch on the grass-

"Voldemort! VOLDEMORT!"

Students jumped to their feet to see none other then Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, standing on the steps that led to the castle. He was screaming at the top of his lungs and waving his hands above his head like a maniac.

Panic ensued, as some people ran wildly to escape from Voldemort's supposed attack. Others didn't move didn't move at all, for they still believed that Voldemort hadn't returned.

Amidst the chaos, Neville lost his toad. Again.

* * *

_99. I will not start a rumor saying that Professor Snape sings "I'm too sexy for my robes" while showering._

Snape was starting to get annoyed. There he was, being his usual gruff and intimidating self, and yet all of the fourth year students he was teaching just continued to laugh... at _him_.

What the bloody hell was going on?

He couldn't tolerate anymore of the laughter, the fun. Where did they get off having a good time in his class? With a growl, Snape pushed the sleeves of his robe back and slammed his hands down on his desk.

"What," he snapped, "is so funny?" After the slightest of hesitations, a grinning Ginny Weasley raised her hand in the air. "Yes?" he glared at her.

"Professor," Ginny asked smoothly, "is it true that you sing _I'm too sexy for my robes_ while in the shower?"

Snape stopped breathing for a moment as the blood drained from his face. "_What_?"

"Professor," another boy said, raising his hand as he spoke, "is it true that you _take_ showers?"

* * *

_100. I will not turn Malfoy into the amazing bouncing ferret when he insults me._

"Malfoy, you can't take off points because we didn't acknowledge your presence. That's ridiculous," Hermione huffed in anger as Ron looked on.

Draco shrugged, a grin playing across his face. "That's ten more points, Granger, for talking back to me. You want to lose more?"

Hermione set her jaw as the blond turned around, that annoying smirk still on his face... Ron turned to leave, but Hermione stared after the boy. Holding her wand in front of her and pointing it directly at Malfoy, she muttered a spell...

With a bang, Draco Malfoy disappeared, and in his place stood a ferret.

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said in wonder as the bookworm began to bounce the ferret up and down in anger. "How did you learn to do that?"

She shrugged, accidentally causing Draco to fly into a wall. "Moody taught me."

* * *

This chapter has two new sections. Can you guess what they are? Last chapter, the new sections were 81, 82, 86, and 87!

Out of this batch, I loved 94, 95, 97, and 99. What about you?

Last week's winner was Ireadtomuch with their story Ways Guaranteed to Get You Killed. Some pretty amusing ways were listed out!

Now for this week's contest. Out of anyone who reviews this chapter, I'll randomly pick one of the people who includes their favorite Harry Potter character in their review! It's the least I can do to thank you all! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

We're halfway there, guys! Thank you for sticking with me throughout this story. I really appreciate it!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	12. Things 101 to 110

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_101. I may not sell Umbridge's quill to emo students, especially if they're no good at poetry._

Muggleborn Ravenclaw first year Mary Heart felt like she was visiting a creepy drug dealer. The lying, the sneaking, the illegality of it all... But she couldn't help it; the little emo girl wanted that quill so badly...

"Wait a second," Fred paused as Mary attempted to hand over the twelve sickles in exchange for the bloody quill. "How good are you at poetry?"

Mary blinked in surprise. "What does_ that_ matter?" she asked in a slow voice. "I've never done poetry before. I just want the quill."

Fred and George exchanged glances before reluctantly handing the quill over to Mary. George shook his head. An emo who had never produced good poetry before... now that was disappointing.

* * *

_102. I am not allowed to lock Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in a closet to see if hot gay sex will occur._

Fred came back to the entrance to the Room of Requirement from the kitchens to find his brother George sitting on the floor. Two pairs of Extendable Ears had slithered up and under the door, and his twin had one of the ears pressed firmly agains the side of his head. "Anything yet?" Fred asked his brother as he handed him a sandwich.

George shook his head. "No. All Malfoy has done so far was blame Harry for getting him locked in the 'closet.'"

Fred groaned. "Great. That sounds completely-"

"Sh!" George demanded, suddenly excited. "Wait, something's happening... Oh." With a sigh, George dropped the Extendable Ear. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

"What?" Fred asked nervously.

George rolled his eyes. "They're exchanging 'your mum' insults. And bad ones at that."

* * *

_103. I am not allowed to set my teachers on fire._

Harry and Ron were nervous. No, it was more than that; the two fifth year boys feared for their lives. What they were about to attempt was so dangerous, so deadly, that they weren't entirely sure they'd survive the aftermath of their actions.

They were about to set Professor Snape on fire.

Well, they were going to _try_, anyway. If all went well, Snape's robes would soon be scorching, and he'd have no idea why. But as Ron and Harry were both aware, Severus Snape was a very intuitive man, and he was very rarely caught by surprise. The chances of them succeeding in this daunting task were so low that not even the biggest gambler in the wizarding world would bet on their triumph. But this task was on the list. It needed to be done.

"Why couldn't Fred or George have done this one?" Ron muttered out of the corner of his mouth during one particularly long potions class. He stirred his lime green brew counterclockwise as he spoke. "It's their bloody idea. Can't they do it?"

"Of course not. That would be too easy for us, wouldn't it? Merlin forbid they actually give us the _easy_ tasks," Harry said with a small roll of his eyes.

Ron just shook his head. "Not going to lie - I'm scared, mate. Snape will absolutely _murder_ us if we get caught."

"I know."

"It'll be a slow, torturous, painful murder-"

"I know."

"They'll never find the bodies."

"I _know_."

"What do we do, Harry? How are we going to do this?"

Harry shrugged, inhaling deeply as he did so. He briefly shut his eyes, allowing his fear and nerves to consume his being for a moment... before his eyes snapped open and he resigned himself to his fate. "Together," he said quietly. "We'll do it together. As we're meant to do."

Ron nodded. "Together."

"You ready?"

"I'll never be ready," Ron said wryly.

"Incendio on three, right? Take aim." Both of the boys pointed their wands at Snape's back as their professor bent over Neville Longbottom's smoking cauldron. "And... one. Two. Thr-"

At that moment there was a bright flash of light and smoke began curling up in plumes from the depths of Neville's cauldron. His fire sputtered, spat, and spewed out flames across the room... and onto Snape's robes. As the dark, imposing wizard put the fire out and turned his glare on a cowing Neville, Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"Well," Harry said after a brief pause. "I think that counts, don't you?"

"Absolutely. Definitely counts."

"We accomplished our task."

"Good. Yeah... So, moving on."

* * *

_104. Adding the name Bueller to Professor Binns' attendance list is cruel._

"Abbot," Professor Binns droned. He was starting his fifth year class off the way he always had: by taking attendance.

"Here!"

"Brown."

"Here."

"Bueller." Silence. The students looked to one another in confusion, wondering who this phantom Bueller was. "Bueller," Professor Binns tried again. "Bueller?"

It was at this point that Hermione lost it; she was laughing too hard from his priceless imitation.

* * *

_105. I am not allowed to bow before Snape and say, "Oh mighty Half-Blood Prince, how may I be of service?" _

Harry couldn't wait for the day's private lesson with Snape to be over and done with. Occlumency was _not_ something that he enjoyed, and why he was forced to learn the art from _Snape_ of all people...

After a brutal attack on his mind, Snape glared down at him. "You're too weak. You aren't focused. You have to listen to what I've been telling you all along, Potter. You have to do what I tell you to, understand?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead choosing to bow down in front of Professor Snape and let him in on something Fred and George had found out a few years back. "Fine. Oh mighty Half-Blood Prince, how may I be of service?"

* * *

_106. I'm not allowed to take house points from Slytherins for "being too god-damn short"._

"Hey you," Ron said, pointing to a Slytherin first year. "Get me that book on the shelf, would you?"

The Slytherin reached for a moment before shrugging helplessly. "Can't reach it," he said as he turned on his heel and walked away.

"Five points from Slytherin," Ron shouted after him. "For being too god-damn short," he muttered as he used The Force to summon the book.

* * *

_107. I am not allowed to play "musical dorms", especially with the different houses._

McGonagall's eyes were wide with surprise when she stepped into the Gryffindor common room late one Thursday evening. Her mouth dropped open, her cheeks burned with fury, and her eyes fell immediately to the two biggest troublemakers the school had ever seen. "Fred and George Weasley!" She called out.

Immediately, all of the chatter and laughter ceased, and the room became deathly silent. The twins exchanged knowing glances before they stepped away from the crowd, resigning themselves to the inevitable fate before them. "Yes, Professor?" George said meekly.

"Take a look around," McGonagall said, her voice low and even. "Does anything seem... amiss to you?"

The twins made a show of scanning the room, before they looked back at each other and shrugged. "Not really," Fred said.

"Everything appears to be in tip-top shape," George added.

"Right as rain."

"Perfectly normal."

"Nothing to see here."

"So you best be on your way-"

"Normal?" McGonagall interrupted. "Normal? So I suppose it's normal to find Miss Lovegood and _her_ Ravenclaw friends curled up on your couches, and to see Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, and Miss Granger lounging about in the Hufflepuff dorm, while said Hufflepuffs are dispersed between the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw chambers!" she said, shouting the last bit.

George cringed. "Well, no. It's not normal for an everyday situation."

"But it _is_ normal for what is going today," Fred protested.

"And what might that be?"

The twins simultaneously gave their Head of House a large grin, and then they said, "playing musical dorms, of course."

* * *

_108. I will not add 'according to the prophecy' to the end of every sentence in Divination class, just to raise my grade._

"Harry Potter," Professor Trelawney croaked with a shake of her head. "My poor boy. You have bad luck coming your way..."

Harry rolled his eyes. Apparently, the old bat had forgotten about the Grim she'd seen.

Ron turned to Harry. "Mate," he said somberly. "You're going to die. According to the prophecy."

Trelawney's mouth dropped open. "What prophecy? Why wasn't I informed of a prophecy?"

"The prophecy about how he'll, uh... defeat Voldemort... and then he'll die." Ron quickly made up. "According to the prophecy, that is."

"Oh," Trelawney said. "Right, well thank you for keeping me up to date, Mr. Weasley."

"No problem, Professor. It's my job. According to the prophecy."

* * *

_109. I will stop referring to showering as "giving Moaning Myrtle an eyeful"._

Harry walked into potions class half an hour late. He knew Snape would yell at him for his tardiness, but after that Herbology lesson he'd had and all of that dirt... he just couldn't stand it! He had to go get clean, dammit!

"Ten points from Gryffindor for excessive tardiness, Mr. Potter," Snape said from the front of the room.

Harry shrugged. "Sorry Professor. I was a little busy giving Moaning Myrtle an eyeful."

Snape was, at one point, a bad man who had seen many bad things, but the mental image this brought about was enough to scar him for life.

* * *

_110. Crucifixes do not ward off Slytherins, and I should not test this notion._

Blaise Zabini was getting on Hermione's last nerve. Hell, even Malfoy had been leaving her alone lately (oddly enough), so why was Zabini taking over the ferret's job of bugging her to death? All she wanted was for him to let her be; was that so hard?

Apparently, it was.

"Hey Mudblood," Zabini called out. "Where's the rest of the Golden Trio? Have they finally gotten sick of you? I know I have!"

Spinning around, Hermione pulled a crucifix from her coat pocket and shoved it towards Blaise. "Beat it, creep," she growled, as Blaise looked on skeptically.

* * *

This chapter has two new sections. Can you guess what they are? Last chapter, the new sections were 94 and 96!

Out of this batch, I loved 102, 103, and 105. What about you?

Last week's winner was Frostfoot-Dreamleaf with their story Forget Me Nott. Enjoy some Hermione/Nott goodness!

Now for this week's contest. Out of anyone who reviews this chapter, I'll randomly pick one of the people who includes their least favorite Harry Potter character in their review! It's the least I can do to thank you all! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

We're halfway there, guys! Thank you for sticking with me throughout this story. I really appreciate it!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	13. Things 111 to 120

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_111. I will not sell pennies as priceless Muggle collector coins._

"Hey you!"

Collin Creevey jumped, a little surprised to be called out so suddenly. He turned his head towards the Weasley twins. "Me?"

"Yeah, you." Collin cautiously approached the twins - they were standing in the hallway, looking around suspiciously.

"What is it?" the young photographer asked. Unconsciously, he too began to glance around, as though looking out for trouble.

"We have a priceless muggle artifact for you," Fred said with excitement, "and we're selling it cheap."

Collin's eyes went wide. "Really?" Oh, this was exciting! He wondered what it was. A diamond pendant? A playstation? Tickets to a Paul McCartney show? "What is it?"

George pulled a bright, shiny penny from his coat pocket. "It's called a-" But that was as far as he got before Collin interrupted him with a snort. "What's so funny?" George asked, annoyed that his well-rehearsed sales pitch had been interrupted.

"That's not priceless," Collin said with a shake of his head. "That's an American penny and it's almost worthless." He looked up at the twins with raised eyebrows. "I'm a muggle-born, remember?"

Fred shook his head. "Dammit!"

* * *

_112. I will not follow potions instructions in reverse just to see what will happen._

Ron was frustrated. He was trying so hard, yet nothing was turning out as he'd planned. No matter what he did, he seemed to fail. However, he was also confused. Why _wasn't_ it working? Why did everything produce an unpredictable result?

Harry leaned over and peered into Ron's cauldron at the light blue mixture smoothly simmering in the pewter pot. "I don't get it," Harry whispered. "How is your potion the right color? How is it the right _thickness_? Mine..." he trailed off, glancing at the vile green liquid in his own cauldron. "Yours looks much better than mine, and you're _trying_ to do it wrong."

"I don't know, mate," Ron whispered with a shrug. "This is ridiculous. I try so hard, and nothing is working out as it should!"

"Are you mental?" Hermione asked from behind them. Both of the boys turned around. "Ron, that potion is brilliant! You'll probably get an O on it! Your first one in potions, if I do recall," she said with a grin. "Welcome to the club."

"But that wasn't what I wanted to do, Hermione," Ron confessed. "I... well..."

"It's for Fred and George's list," Harry took over. "We're supposed to follow the potions' instructions in reverse and see what happens. But it's just..."

"Not working," Ron finished for him. "At all. Somehow, everything has turned out all right."

Hermione's eyes shut briefly as a look of disgust crept over her face. Finally, she opened them again and gave her head a shake. "You two are both bloody _stupid_," she hissed.

"Hermione-"

"No! Let me tell you why your little experiment failed," she whispered, leaning forward. "Because the potions' instructions are symmetrical! The first instruction is also the _last_ instruction. The second step is the penultimate one, and so on and so forth! Yes, you've been doing the whole potion backwards, but you've also been doing it forwards!"

* * *

_113. I will not ask Professor Trelawney when she last had her Inner Eye tested._

Another day, another Divination class, another time Harry would supposedly die a gruesome death.

The Boy Who Lived shook his head, fed up with it all, and raised his hand. Trelawney nodded to him in acknowledgment. "Professor," Harry began calmly. "You've been predicting my death a lot lately, so I have to ask... when's the last time you've had your Inner Eye tested?"

Trelawney just gaped at him in surprise. "What?"

"Because, I haven't yet died... You've been wrong. So maybe your Inner Eye needs glasses."

* * *

_114. I will not tell Ron that Draco Malfoy took Ginny's virginity just to see his reaction._

Fred and George followed Ron towards the Slytherin table, identical smirks on their faces. Oh, this was going to be so good... Ron approached the Slytherin prince and tapped him on the back. Draco Malfoy turned around...

And Ron punched him in the face.

"You bastard!" Ron shouted.

"Ow," Draco huffed, glaring at Ron and the twins behind him. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"You know what," Ron growled, balling his hand into another fist as he prepared to strike again.

Draco just shook his head. "No, I don't, _Weasel_. So why don't you tell me?"

"You," Ron snapped. "Took. My. Sister's. VIRGINITY!"

Draco winced in pain - at least that was what Fred and George thought... Sighing, the blond boy asked, "How did you find out about that?"

There was a pause as Ginny's twin brothers stood there in confusion, their smirks sliding off their faces. Simultaneously, they pulled out their wands in anger. "What!" they shrieked, advancing on the Slytherin seeker.

Across the room, Ginny shook her head in affection-filled annoyance. "Oh, Draco," she whispered. "You adorable idiot."

* * *

_115. I will not accuse Fluffy of having eaten my homework._

Umbridge glared at Ginny. She was upset that the fourth year had dared to disobey her and not do her homework. "What," the old toad of a teacher asked sternly, "could have possibly been more important than your homework?"

"But Professor," Ginny argued. "I did too do it. It's just... Fluffy ate it."

Umbridge blinked. "Fluffy," she said disbelievingly.

Ginny nodded. "It's Hagrid's three-headed dog."

Surprisingly, Umbridge let her slide. This was probably due to the fact that she didn't realize Fluffy had been released back into the wild two years ago...

* * *

_116. I'm not to take out a life insurance policy on Harry._

The door to the Gryffindor fifth year boy's dormitory flew open with a _bang_ early one Sunday morning. Ron groaned and pulled the pillow over his face. He'd been trying to have a bit of a lie-in; he didn't care if he missed breakfast or slept half of the day away. He just wanted to rest! The pillow, however, was very quickly yanked from his grasp and the curtains were unceremoniously thrown back, allowing for the sunlight to come streaming across his face.

"Argh," he moaned as he blinked sleepily up at the dark form leering over his bed. "Who-"

"What the _hell_ did you do?"

Ron turned onto his side - his back to the figure - having recognized the voice of none other than Harry Potter. "Nothing. I'm just trying to sleep!"

But Harry wasn't through with him. He yanked on his friends shoulder, forcing Ron to face him once more. "Guess what I got by owl this morning?"

"A letter from Snuffles?" he muttered before giving a small yawn.

"A letter concerning my _life insurance_."

"Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_." Harry crossed his arms over his chest, the letter clenched in his right hand. "You want to tell me what this is about?"

"I should think it's fairly obvious," Ron grumbled. He forced himself into a seated position. He'd never get back to sleep now. "It's a life insurance policy."

"I _know_ that," Harry snapped. "But why do I have one?"

"Because you're always having near death experiences," Ron said with a shrug. "I figured you of all people should have one."

"Ron, that is _not_ your place to decide!"

"Maybe not," Ron said with a grin. "But if you do - unfortunately - kick it, then I get to collect the insurance money. So at least your death won't be in vain."

Once more, Harry followed what was quickly becoming a habit and flipped Ron the bird.

* * *

_117. I am not allowed to respond to all Snape's insults with "I know you are but what am I?"_

"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for being an insufferable know it all."

"I know you are but what am I?"

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, for being a dunderhead who can't brew a simple healing solution."

"I know you are but what am I?"

"Mr. Potter, five points from Gryffindor for being too lazy to let the potion brew long enough."

"I know you are but what am I?"

"Detention for the next copycat to say that again!"

"...Copycat?"

* * *

_118. Naughty jokes regarding "Moaning" Myrtle are only funny the first time._

"I can't believe you! You... you slept with the enemy," Ron shouted, throwing his hands over his eyes. "That's horrible!"

"Oh, can it, Ron. Draco's not that bad. He's actually kind of sweet," Ginny mused.

"Sweet! He's a _Malfoy_, Ginny. As in the complete opposite of sweet. Besides, you are _way_ too young for... for this," Ron protested.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Just because you haven't gotten any yet-"

"Hey!"

"That doesn't mean we all have to be unhappy," Ginny concluded. "Why don't you follow Harry's advice? You and Hermione should get a room."

"You're fourteen!"

"So?"

"So, I don't want my little sister to be-"

"See, look at Myrtle here," Ginny said as they passed the ghost. "There's a reason she's called _Moaning_ Myrtle, and it's not because she's sad all of the time," she pointed out as Myrtle burst into tears.

* * *

_119. I will not start every potions class by asking Professor Snape if the day's project can be used as a sexual lubricant._

"Professor! Professor," Hermione called out, waving her hand in the air wildly.

Snape sighed. "What now, Miss Granger?"

"I have a question from a friend of mine. She was too nervous to ask this herself..."

"Just get on with it," Snape snapped.

"Can today's project be used as a sexual lubricant?"

Everyone in the class turned to stare at Draco, Ginny Weasley's unofficial boyfriend as he shrunk lower in his seat. Ron Weasley snapped his quill in half in anger. Snape blinked for a moment before honestly answering that it could.

Hermione wasn't the only person wondering how he knew this.

* * *

_120. Eating a bar of chocolate that weighs more than you do is a bad idea._

Professor Umbridge let out a small shriek as she rounded the corner and came to a rather stunned halt. Lying there sprawled eagle on the floor was Ron Weasley. His eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing was labored, and lines of pain were etched all over his heavily freckled face.

"Mr. Weasley!" Umbridge said, lunging forward to kneel down next to the boy. She may not have cared at all about his health or safety, but a dead child under her watch was sure to be frowned upon by the Ministry. "Mr. Weasley, are you all right?" The redhead groaned, his eyes fluttering for a moment before he squeezed them tightly shut once more. "Mr. Weasley!" she said, her voice much firmer. "Look at me."

Ron took a deep breath before squinting up at her. His vision was blurry, and it took him a moment to focus his eyes on her. _Huh,_ he thought to himself. _So this is what being Harry feels like_.

"Mr. Weasley, what happened to you? What's wrong?" Umbridge prodded.

"Too much," he mumbled, his eyes briefly drifting shut again. "Much too much."

"Too much _what_?" Umbridge asked, giving his shoulders a shake. "What happened?"

"Ate... too much..."

The old toad's eyebrows rose as she stared down at the boy. "You _ate_ too much. _That's_ what's wrong? A simple matter of too much food."

"No," he protested. His voice had dropped down to a whisper. Umbridge strained her ears to better hear. "Not food. Chocolate."

"_Chocolate_?"

"Chocolate," Ron mumbled, a grimace forming over his face. "180 pounds of Belgium milk chocolate," he said, before clutching his stomach with a groan.

Without another word, Umbridge got to her feet and began to walk away from him. She sniffed at the air, disgusted with the boy on the ground. Chocolate. He deserved to suffer.

* * *

This chapter has three new sections. Can you guess what they are? Last chapter, the new sections were 103 and 107!

Out of this batch, I loved 112, 114, and 116. What about you?

Last week's winner is blue wrackspurts, who wrote many awesome poems that you should go check out!

Now for this week's contest. Out of anyone who reviews this chapter, I'll randomly pick one of the people who includes their favorite Weasley character in their review! It's the least I can do to thank you all! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

We're halfway there, guys! Thank you for sticking with me throughout this story. I really appreciate it!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	14. Things 121 to 130

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_121. Telling Draco Malfoy to 'Make like a ferret and bounce' is always a bad idea._

Draco Malfoy sat nervously in the Room of Requirement at a long, dark wood table. Fred, George, Harry, and Ron across from him. The four Gryffindor boys glared at the heir to the Malfoy lineage, their gazes unwavering as they made the blond boy squirm. Never had he been so fearful of his Gryffindor rivals before.

"Well Malfoy," Fred said calmly, "do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Draco tapped his fingers on the table like he was a heroin addict in withdrawal. "I really, _really_ like her."

"Why?" George asked as he raised an eyebrow.

"She's, uh..." Draco blinked nervously. "She's smart. And funny. And really beautiful-"

"Are you going to hurt her?" Harry asked the Slytherin prince.

"No," Draco blurted out, shaking his head wildly back and forth. "Never!"

Ron snorted. "Oh please. Like I believe that, Malfoy. You don't deserve my sister. You'll _never _deserve my sister. So why don't you just make like a ferret and bounce?"

* * *

_122. I must not leave shampoo on Professor Snape's desk with directions on how to use it._

Professor Snape was surprised to find a large white bottle of Paul Mitchell shampoo sitting upon his desk late one afternoon. Sitting next to it was a small manilla envelope. With a sigh, he grabbed the envelope off of his desk, expecting the contents within to be part of some ludicrous prank. Wryly, he opened it up and read:

_How to Use Shampoo:_

_1) Get the hair wet._

_2) Scrub the scalp vigorously with shampoo._

_3) Rinse._

After grading so many of her fairly well-written and impeccably researched essays, Professor Snape knew for sure that Hermione Granger had penned this note by the handwriting alone. However, he decided to ignore the irritation that had taken over his mind, and to actually use the shampoo, as Granger was probably just trying to do him a favor.

Yes, that was it.

* * *

_123. I will not try to 'capture' a unicorn in a 'Pokeball'._

Care of Magical Creatures Class. It was probably the scariest, most frightening class Harry had ever partaken in. He never knew what they might be dealing with, never knew what dangers would lie around the corner...

But not that day. No, they were dealing with unicorns, a species that was almost guaranteed not to hurt him, and for that he was grateful. As the girls stepped forward to pet the horse with a horn, Harry fingered the red and white ball in his pocket; now was his chance...

"Pokeball, go!" he suddenly yelled, throwing the object at the unicorn. The ball hit the majestical creature in the back.

This was how Harry learned that when provoked, unicorns _can_ and _will_ charge.

* * *

_124. I will not lock the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors in a room together and take bets on which house will come out alive._

"Bets! Take your bets!" Fred called out one day in a long, dusty corridor on the fifth floor. Older students from all four of the houses were clustered around him, thrusting knuts and sickles into his brother's hand.

"Will the Slytherins win?" George inquired to the crowd. "Will the serpents triumph?"

"Or will the brave lions remain victorious?" Fred finished.

"Slytherins!"

"Gryffindors!"

_"Slytherins!_"

"_Gryffindors!"_

_"SLYTHERINS!"_

_"GRYFF-"_

"What the _bloody_ hell is going on here!" McGonagall shouted, her voice carrying over the voices of all of the kids in the hall. Silence permeated the air as wide-eyed students stared at their Transfiguration professor in horror. "Well?"

"Nothing to see, Professor," Fred said, a smile present in his voice.

"Nothing at all. Move it along," George continued.

"Now you listen here-"

"It's just a friendly duel, is all," Fred said with a small shrug. "It's nothing serious."

"Just a few people trying to duke it out for the sheer thrill of it," George promised with a grin.

A stern look fell across McGonagall's face. "That is _not_ allowed at this school! You _know_ better - or you should, anyway. How you two could be so careless... especially with Professor Umbridge around," she muttered to herself."

"Right, sorry Professor," Fred said with a quick nod.

"We'll cease immediately."

"Pack it up-

"Send them home-"

"No duel to see!"

"We've learned our lesson," George said with a confident grin. "I guess we can go back to our dorms now."

"Goodbye!"

"Farewell!"

"Au revoir!"

As McGonagall looked at the twins with skepticism, someone from within the crowd called out, "Should we let the first years out now?"

At this, McGonagall's eyes widened and she turned her glare on the twins. "_What?_"

George sighed and exchanged disappointed looks with his brother. "So close..."

* * *

_125. Mrs. Norris is not a suitable replacement for a piñata._

"Happy birthday, Neville!"

The clumsy fifth year grinned sheepishly as all around the Gryffindor common room, people started to applaud and cheer. "Thanks everybody," he said with a laugh as he gave his housemates a thumbs up.

"Now Neville," Fred said as he grinned down at the boy.

"It's time for the party games," George continued, as the twins used their wands to levitate a hog-tied Mrs. Norris up to the birthday boy. "Here Neville," George said, handing him a blindfold and a bat. "You're first."

"And don't forget to hit really hard," Fred said as Neville stared on in horror. "If you don't, the candy won't come out.

* * *

_126. I will not create a betting pool that Voldemort is Harry Potter's father._

"Bets, take your bets," Ginny called as she walked through the common room late one March evening.

Harry approached her, confused by her out of character actions. "Ginny, what's going on?"

"Well," she said with a grin, "as you know, the year is more than half over, and that means the epic, end-of-the-year fight you always have with You-Know-Who is coming up."

"I don't always have an end of the year fight with Voldemort!"

"Yes, you do."

"No I don't," Harry protested. "One year, I had it with Peter Pettigrew and the Dementors!" he finished in triumph.

Ginny just sighed and gave a small shake of her head. "So I'm taking bets on-"

"Whether or not I'll win?" Harry was dumbfounded. "This is ridiculous! I know we love gambling, but-"

"No, not that. I'm taking bets on whether or not at the end-of-the-year battle You-Know-Who will reveal that he's actually your father."

* * *

_127. Hogwarts is in the UK, thus the United States Constitution does not apply to any of its students. Therefore, 'Avada Kedavra' does not fall under the First Amendment freedom of speech rights._

"Yes, dear," Professor Umbridge said rather warily as she approached Hermione Granger. Umbridge hadn't even been at Hogwarts for a year yet, and already she wanted nothing more then to never teach again, to stop calling on these insolent, devilish children and their stupid questions... But alas, she couldn't do that. Yet.

"Avada Kedavra isn't an Unforgivable in the United States, is it Professor?" Hermione asked loudly. The rest of the class was staring at her with wide eyes, wondering just what the hell was going through Hermione's mind that made her question the Unforgivables.

"Yes, Miss Granger. It very much is," Umbridge stated, eyes wide in panic. "Whatever gave you the idea that it wasn't?"

"The United States Constitution specifically says that all citizens of the country have the freedom of speech," Hermione lectured. "Avada Kedavra falls under free speech, and if my wand just happens to be pointed at you as I say it... Well, oops."

Once again, Hermione's undeniable logic had left Umbridge absolutely speechless.

* * *

_128. Calling Voldemort "Baldemort" is inappropriate._

Harry sat down late one evening beside Ron, sighing to himself in anger. He was so sick of all the nagging and the rules that were permeating Hogwarts as of late. Why couldn't things just be simpler, like back when he was a first year? When did things become so difficult?

"What's up, mate?" Ron asked his best friend.

"I'm so sick of Umbridge! I hate her regime, I hate her _clothing,_ but most of all, I hate how she keeps denying that Voldemort has returned. It's not as if my story is impossible, just improbable." Harry shook his head. "I just hate having to bear the weight of Voldemort's return all alone."

Ron snickered. "He's not really Voldemort, Harry. More like Baldemort. The least he could do is get a toupee, or some Rogaine or something."

This was when Harry remembered just how insensitive Ron tended to be during an emotional crisis. So, just like the last time Harry had experience deep emotional agony, Harry flipped Ron the bird.

* * *

_129. Insisting that the school acquire computers and network the buildings is a pointless request._

"But Professor," Hermione protested early one morning in Dumbledore's office. "The internet makes research easier! And it's so much faster to type papers than it is to handwrite them - computers are more efficient."

"A quill and some parchment is adequate enough, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said with a sly grin.

"But the muggles went through all of this trouble to invent computers in the first place, Professor. Shouldn't we honor these muggles and use the technology? We can improve it and make it better. We can alter it to suit our magical needs. It can be an amazing tool for us!"

Dumbledore, however, just shook his head. "You will survive Miss Granger." He held out a small glass jar that sat on his desk. "Lemon drop?"

Hermione threw her hands up in the air as she walked away. "Well then, couldn't we at least use pens?" She called out over her shoulder. "The ink wells are dreadfully bothersome!"

* * *

_130. I will not start a howler chain letter saying "your life will be cursed for 7 years if you don't send this to 10 fellow students within 15 minutes."_

Luna Lovegood got the first one.

As the mail came one Monday morning in late March, the howler arrived at Luna's place setting, just burning to be opened. As she cautiously let the flaps of the scorching red envelope fall open...

YOUR LIFE WILL BE CURSED FOR 7 LONG YEARS IF YOU DON'T RESEND THIS HOWLER TO TEN FELLOW HOGWARTS STUDENTS WITHIN THE NEXT FIFTEEN MINUTES! YOU DON'T WANT TO BE CURSED; DEATH AWAITS THOSE WHO ARE...

-WWW

With wide eyes, Luna took out her wand and duplicated the letter, making ten copies of the howler, and sent it on to all of her Ravenclaw friends. From there, it just spiraled out of control. It didn't take long for everyone in the school to have received them, and for Umbridge to create a new decree banning howlers from Hogwarts altogether.

* * *

This chapter has only one new section. Can you guess what it is? Last chapter, the new sections were 112, 116 and 120!

Out of this batch, I loved 124 and 126. What about you?

Last week's winner is Ryah Ignis, whose story The Hogwarts Express is very insightful!

Now for this week's contest. Out of anyone who reviews this chapter, I'll randomly pick one of the people who includes their favorite number from the list above in their review! It's the least I can do to thank you all! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

We're halfway there, guys! Thank you for sticking with me throughout this story. I really appreciate it!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	15. Things 131 to 140

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_131. I may not challenge the Slytherins to 'meet me on the Quidditch field, at dawn.'_

"You can't perform a simple switching spell," Blaise said with a snarl, shaking his head in mock sadness. "How much more pathetic could you possibly get?"

"Blaise," Malfoy said nervously, poking his friend. "Please stop it. I'm dating Potter's best mate's sister, all right? I don't want you to anger him. I _need_ to keep him ha-"

"No Malfoy," Harry sneered. "It's okay." Turning to Blaise, Harry strode over to him and poked the taller boy in the chest. "We're going to settle this like _real_ men. Meet me at the Quidditch field at dawn. We'll see who's more pathetic."

Harry walked away, knowing that if all else failed tomorrow, he had his light saber noises to help him win the duel.

* * *

_132. A lightning bolt tattoo is NOT the 'Light Mark'._

It started out as nothing. A few first years, a couple of second years, a third year here or there. It was no big deal, a harmless joke. Nothing to get upset about. And then the entire DA started to do it, and suddenly, Harry couldn't take it anymore.

If he saw _one more_ student with a lightening bolt temporary tattoo on their forehead...

"You!" he shouted at Fred and George as he passed them in the common room. "You're doing this! You're handing out those... those _things_!"

"You mean these?" George asked as he held up a light pink press-on lightening bolt. "Well... yeah."

"Of course we are," Fred added.

"Did you ever have any doubt that it was us?"

"Why? Why would you do that? It's ridiculous, it's insulting, it's-"

"It's the Light Mark, mate," George interrupted.

"I... what?"

"It's the symbol of good. It's means we're on your side. It shows that we're going to kick some dark arse!" Fred explained with a grin. Then he paused. "Besides, it looks much better than the Dark Mark ever could."

* * *

_133. I will not ask Professor Flitwick to sing "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead!" _

Ginny Weasley was bored.

It was only the beginning of March; she still had three and a half months of school left, yet despite all of the Umbridge drama and the list Fred and George had created, life was going fairly slowly for her. Oh sure, things were going great with Draco, but other then that...

Tedious. Life was nothing but a tedious mess.

Her boredom is probably what prompted her to suddenly stand up from her desk one day in the middle of Flitwick's charms lesson. "Professor," she said as all around her Ginny's classmates snapped their heads up to listen to her. "I have a request."

Flitwick tilted his head in confusion, his wand still partially raised from the spell he'd been about to perform. "I beg your pardon?"

"Can you sing_ Ding Dong the Witch is Dead_ for us please? Preferably with the another group of munchkins as back-up. But of course, if you can't get them here in time, I understand."

His eyes went wide. "What are you-"

"No?" Ginny said, not letting him finish his statement. "Well what about _We Represent the Lollipop Guild_? I mean, you have to know at least _one _of the munchkin songs. Surely, it must be a tradition for _all_ munchkins to sing them..."

* * *

_134. If asked in class what the Avada Kedavra curse does, yelling "It does Death!" may be correct, but it is not the manner in which one should answer._

They were at it again.

Despite Harry and the twins' timid acceptance of Slytherin Prince Draco Malfoy as Ginny's brand new boyfriend, Ron would not have it. It had been weeks since Draco and Ginny's secret relationship had come to light, and all Ron was still miles away from accepting it. No, all he could bring himself to do was mock the ferret.

Though "mock" is really too generous of a term for what Ron was doing. Really, he was just taking a page out of Harry's book and badly insulting him - with 'your mum' insults.

"Your mom's so blond, she probably thinks you have to bring a big spoon to the Superbowl!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Potter already used that one, Weasley. Can't you think for yourself?"

"Don't you _dare_ question me!"

"And how do you even know what the Superbowl is?" Malfoy asked as he raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a muggle thing?"

"I'm not allowed to be cultured?"

He sighed. "I never said that."

"You insinuated it!"

"I don't want to fight with you, Weasley."

"Well that's too bad! If you keep on insulting me and my family-"

"Your _family_?" Malfoy asked in alarm. "When did I insult your family?"

"-Then you're going to have to face my wrath! Now fight back, dammit! What have you got?"

"For what?"

"For an _insult_, Malfoy! Do your worst."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and gave a half-assed attempt. "You're so dumb, you probably don't even know what Avada Kedavra does."

Now Ron was rather irritated. He knew that Draco was just letting him win this battle of the wits just to placate him. So he responded to the blonde's half-assed remark with a sarcastic comeback. "Yeah, I do," he said with a glare. "It does death!"

* * *

_135. I will not wolf-whistle at Professor Snape whenever I see him._

"_Wwwt Wwuu!"_

Professor Severus Snape stopped walking and spun around quickly to search his surroundings. Did someone just _whistle_? At _him? _No, no that couldn't be it. That was impossible; no one would ever want to whistle at him. And besides, no one was in sight... except for Hermione Granger.

What the...

"Miss Granger?"

"Hey Professor. You're looking quite handsome today," Hermione said as she sauntered towards him. She raised an eyebrow, her expression turning sultry.

Snape started. "What in the- Miss Granger! This is quite inappropriate!"

"It's almost as if you were trying to charm someone... another professor, perhaps," she said as she reached him, completely ignoring his protests. "I followed the signs, you know. It wasn't very hard. You're in love with Professor Minerva McGonagall, and you don't know how to tell her."

Severus's back stiffened. "No. Certainly not."

"See, I know you're lying for a fact, Professor. Simply because you just denied. You didn't give me a detention or take off house points. All you did was deny," she said, tilting her head to the side.

Snape was thrown; he hadn't realized he'd been so transparent. "Miss Granger, I-"

"Shh," Hermione said, placing one small finger over his lips. Her face broke into a grin. "Don't worry. I think I can help you out."

* * *

_136. I am not allowed to paint the house elves blue._

"What did you _do_?" McGonagall shrieked late one night as she stared down in shock. From behind her, the twins awkwardly shifted from side to side, awaiting their punishment. They wished they'd _known_ McGonagall was going to be patrolling the first floor corridors that night; they _never_ would have gone there if they'd known. If only they hadn't given up the Marauder's Map...

George shrugged, answering his professor's question. "They're smurfs, Professor. They should be blue."

The 'smurfs' didn't seem particularly fond of this notion, though they really weren't paying too much attention; the house elves were too busy peeling paint off of each other to notice the string of detentions the Weasleys received.

* * *

_137. I will not ask the house elves if they work for Santa Clause in the off season_

As punishment for their spontaneous paint job, Fred and George Weasley were both forced to work in the kitchens every weekend for a total of three weeks. While at the time Professor McGonagall found it to be a brilliant plan that was designed to show the twins just what the house elves do and how hard they work, she soon came to regret the decision...

"Why doesn't that go there?" Fred whined as Dobby moved a large ceramic plate.

"_Because_ sirs," Dobby said sternly. Never had such a well-mannered house elf been so impatient. "It belongs to the left."

"But why?"

"Is yous questioning me knowledge?" Dobby snapped, rolling his big, goggly eyes.

Silence followed Dobby's grammatically incorrect question for a second as Fred contemplated this. "Hey Dobby," he said finally. "Can I ask you something?"

Dobby sighed. "What is it, sirs?"

"Well, it's about when you're not at Hogwarts... Do you work for Santa in the off-season?"

After that disaster of a day, McGonagall found a new punishment for the twins.

* * *

_138. I am not to owl copies of the Evil Overlord Gazette to suspected Death Eaters._

Lucius Malfoy couldn't help but stare at the newspaper that his owl had brought to him. Who would create such a thing? _The Evil Overlord Gazette_... A newspaper based entirely on the actions of the Death Eaters.

The sad truth was, however, that this ridiculous idea of a newspaper was actually rather well written. No, it was better than that, it was genius! Where else could he find a detailed description of their last raid? Where else would be get to read commentaries on their fashion choices? And the subtle mocking of their principles and actions? Hilarious. Even though he knew it was meant to be insulting, Lucius couldn't help but find it absolutely brilliant.

Of course, he knew that he could never show it to the Dark Lord. Merlin knew he didn't need _another_ reason to kill the mysterious WWW who kept sending them things. Whoever they were...

* * *

_139. "All's fair in love and war" is not an official rule of Hogwarts._

George approached Katie Bell with proverbial butterflies in his stomach. He was constantly shaking his hand back and forth as a way to calm his nerves. "Um, Katie," he said, grinning at her innocently, "can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," Katie said with a small smile. "What's up?"

"Do you want to go out sometime?"

Katie's smile wavered for a moment before she bit her lip. "Fred actually asked me out a few days ago," she confessed. "I... well, I said I'd go with him, George. I'm sorry."

"Oh," he said, a frown appearing on his face. "Are you sure? I mean, I always thought you were more into me..."

"Well..." Katie briefly shut her eyes. "I... I _really_ like you. In fact... well, I think you're my favorite of the Weasley's George. "

"Really?" George asked, relief flooding through him. "That's great! So you'll go out with me."

"But I'm going out with Fred-"

George just shrugged. "So you changed your mind. That's allowed, you know."

"That's cruel."

"That's life. You shouldn't deny your heart just because you're afraid of hurting my brother's feelings. You want me; I want you. So let's just be together. Okay?"

"I don't want to hurt your brother-"

George smirked. "He'll get over it. Eventually. But you're mine now."

Despite her concern, Katie couldn't help but giggle as George put his arm around her waist and pulled her across the common room towards the portrait hole... and accidentally past his brother.

"George!" Fred exclaimed in shock at the sight of them together.

The grin immediately slipped from Katie's face and she bit her lip once more, her eyes widening with worry. But George just shrugged. "All's fair in love and war, mate," he said, before tugging Katie out of the common room and into the corridor.

Fred was left sitting alone, banging his tightly clenched fist against the table. "And the sad thing," he mumbled to himself, "is that I think _I_ was the one to come up with that bloody rule..."

* * *

_140. Umbridge will not melt if water is poured over her._

Cruelty seemed to follow The Boy Who Lived wherever he went; that was the only explanation for it. Why else would Umbridge have assigned him detention_ again_? The witch would just not be stopped in her fruitless quest to reprimand the children of Hogwarts... but Harry had a plan. He would do a special service to his beloved school - no, a special service to the world. Yes, that's right. He would get rid of the evil and malevolent Umbridge.

"Mister Potter," Umbridge said in her usual overtly sickly sweet voice. "How are those floors coming along?"

Floors. That was what he'd been tirelessly scrubbing for the past hour and a half. Floors. Harry didn't mind, though. On the contrary, it was perfect. By making him scrub floors, Umbridge had unwittingly given Harry the perfect weapon to use against her. In answer to her cruel question, Harry threw the bucket of water meant for washing the stone ground onto his professor.

The witch didn't see it coming; she didn't move, didn't retreat, didn't use magic to stop it. No, the icy cold, soap-filled liquid hit her right in the face. Umbridge sputtered in shock as she reached up to wipe the soap from her eyes. "Merlin's beard!" she exclaimed. Her eyes widened as she looked down at the boy, shock and anger etched onto her toad-like features. "What do you think you're doing, Mr. Potter!"

"Oh come on," Harry said, ignoring her ire as he threw the now-empty bucket down in anger. "You're the wicked witch of the west! You're supposed to melt!" Umbridge's mouth just dropped open, adding to the picture of pure shock quite nicely. Harry, however, just shrugged. He knew she'd get over it eventually. Soon enough, he'd have another hundred detentions... "Well, it worked in the Wizard of Oz."

* * *

I'm so sorry for taking so long with this chapter; I've been moving recently. Forgive me? Please? What if I give you a cookie? You will? Thanks!

This chapter has two new sections. Can you guess what it is? Last chapter, the new section was 124!

Out of this batch, I loved 134 and 139. What about you?

Now for this week's contest. Out of anyone who reviews this chapter, I'll randomly pick one of the people who includes their favorite character from the Marauder Era in their review! It's the least I can do to thank you all! And if you're one of my old readers who reviewed years ago, remember that I accept anonymous reviews too! Just put your penname in the name spot! Once again, thank you all!

I'll have the next update out in a few days, so look out for it!

-Selene


	16. Things 141 to 150

**Contest in the author's note at the bottom!**

* * *

_141. I am not allowed to sing my own personal spy music while wandering the halls._

Ginny was on her way to meet Draco after lunch one weekend, and she didn't want anyone to know. It wasn't that she was ashamed to have feeling for Draco; far from it. When he wasn't being a bigoted ass to her friends, Draco could actually be rather sweet. He always asked her how she was doing - did she want help studying, was her chair comfortable, did she need him to run out and acquire food from the kitchens - and she felt no reservations about being in a relationship with him. But their relationship had only recently become public, and she was still kind of shy about it, especially because Ron _still_ refused to accept the fact that Ginny and Draco were a nice, stable couple.

So down the corridor she crept, hoping that absolutely no one noticed her. And to make sure that no one noticed, she needed to create the right ambiance... "Dadoo, dadoo, dadoo dadoo dadoo dadoo da, doooo," she hummed to herself as she crept along the hallway under the watchful scrutiny of her bewildered classmates.

* * *

_142. I am not able to see the Grim Reaper, nor am I to claim that he is standing by the Headmaster, tapping an hourglass and looking at him impatiently._

Professor Umbridge was absolutely in awe. Everything around her was calm. As everyone sat in the Great Hall consuming dinner, Umbridge couldn't help but take note of the peaceful atmosphere. Dinner was going strangely well for once; there were no weird mishaps or Weasley pranks taking place at all-

"Noooooo!"

Umbridge sighed. She must have jinxed it with her positive thinking. She knew it was too good to be true. "Mr. Potter," she said sternly as she stood up from the table. "What is going on?"

"You can't take him! You can't," Harry yelled up towards the teachers.

Umbridge blinked. "What on _earth_ is that supposed to mean?"

"The Grim Reaper," Harry explained, pointing up at the headmaster. "He's standing next to Professor Dumbledore... and... and he's tapping an hourglass! The headmaster's time is up! No! No, it can't be!"

Needless to say, this incident did_ not_ help Harry convince Umbridge that he was telling the truth about Voldemort being back.

* * *

_143. I will not change the password to the prefect's bathroom to, "Makes getting clean almost as much fun as getting dirty."_

Ginny and Hermione felt ridiculously evil. For Ginny, this sort of prank came naturally to her; she did, after all, grow up in the same household as Fred and George Weasley. Hermione, on the other hand, was not used to this sort of practical joke, especially when it was being played against one of her best friends. Yet despite her unease, Hermione couldn't help but enjoy watching Ron Weasley struggle thanks to something she did. It was rather relaxing, and it was all in good fun. So what was the harm?

The two girls laughed from behind a pillar as Ron stood outside the entrance to the prefect's bathroom, a frustrated scowl on his face. "He'll never get it," the brunette whispered to her companion with a small grin.

Ginny nodded as she placed a hand over her mouth, muffling a laugh. "It was genius to change the password to 'makes getting clean almost as much fun as getting dirty.' That is the absolute _last _thing he'll guess."

"It's rather long," Hermione added. "It's the last thing _anyone_ would guess."

"And he completely deserves it," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. "Maybe now he'll stop trying to break Draco and I up."

"Perhaps," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "I think we did well here, don't you?"

"Undoubtably." The girls silently high-fived each other, and then they went back to watching Ron play the guessing game.

"...Pureblood? Slytherins suck? Lemon drops? Dragon scales? Broomstick? Bueller? Am I even close?"

* * *

144. _I will not sell tickets to get into the Chamber of Secrets._

"Tickets! Get your tickets, here!" Fred Weasley shouted from right in front of the girl's bathroom on the third floor. "Right behind me is the entrance to the... _secret_ Chamber of Secrets!"

"Only five Sickles! Five Sickles will get you access to the hidden wonders beneath the school," George added with a grin.

"Be amazed!"

"Be astounded!

"Be let in on a secret that many would _die _to get their hands on!" Fred finished with a flourish as the crowd of underclassman before him all gaped.

"So step right up," George continued. "Buy your tickets now! Who wants one?"

"I do."

Normally, Fred and George would have been elated at the prospect of making a sale. But there was no mistaking the firm, Scottish voice from the back of the crowd, and the twins gulped as Professor McGonagall pushed her way forward.

Fred gave a weak smile. "Hello, Professor. Should we explain-"

"My office. Now!" she seethed, pointing off down the hall.

"Guess not," George grumbled. The two boys hung their heads as the crowd dispersed, and they followed after their Head of House.

Harry, however, bumped into them as the crowd parted, and he whispered furiously as he passed, "You idiots! The Chamber of Secrets is on the _second_ floor. You've got the wrong bathroom!"

* * *

_145. I am not the Defense Against the Boring Classes Professor._

"Excuse me, Madam Pince?" The librarian looked over the top of her desk to see two fourth year students standing before her with a crumpled up note in their hands.

She sighed. What ridiculous, trivial nonsense were they going to bring to her attention this time? "Yes?"

"We would like to borrow a book from the restricted section." Madam Pince's eyebrows went up as one of the students held the wrinkled piece of paper out to her. "We have a note from a professor and everything. It's completely valid."

Well, this was certainly unexpected. Madam Pince snatched the note from the child's hands and glanced down at it before frowning. "Ginny Weasley? She's not a professor." What were these kids playing at?

But one of the girls just shook her head. "Yes she is, Madam Pince. Ginny is the Defense Against the Boring Classes professor."

* * *

_146. I should not hand out flyers trying to convert people to Harry Potterism._

Draco Malfoy wrinkled his nose at his girlfriend Ginny as she tried to hand him a glossy white flyer. "You must be joking," he deadpanned as he pushed her hand away. "I'm not taking that."

"Why not?" she asked, blinking her dark brown eyes up at him.

"Just... no! I can't even... Why would you even _think_ I'd want to follow Potter around as though he were a _god_?" Malfoy asked, horror alive on his face.

She pouted. "Because you like me? Because I want you to?"

"No!"

"Draco, please-"

"Nothing in this world will _ever_ make me worship Potter," he said as he stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll _never_ join his stupid cult religion!"

"But-"

She was interrupted, however, as Ron hustled around the corner and grabbed ahold of her arm. "Hide the flyers," he muttered to his sister. "Harry's coming. He'd go mental if he knew what we were doing." As Ginny stuffed the pages in her bag, Ron gave Draco a sideways look before he shook his head at Ginny. "Not this one, Gin," he said, making no effort to keep his voice down. "I know you're dating Malfoy, but we can't have him as a follower of Potterism. We have to show _some_ class."

* * *

_147. Crabbe and Goyle should not be referred to as "Dumb and Dumber."_

One day in potions class, Hermione was partnered up with none other than Draco, the magnificent "Ferret Boy". Though, thanks to Ginny, the two old rivals no longer outright _hated_ each other, they were no where near becoming friends, and therefore Hermione was less than thrilled about this matchup.

This, unfortunately, led to a long, drawn out awkward silence that permeated their table as the two of them stood hunched over a boiling cauldron. Hermione couldn't stand the awkward silence. It was one thing to be working with her once enemy, it was another to be struggling to find something to say. She found it absolutely unbearable, which is why she hesitantly reached for some topic, any topic, to end that awful quiet purgatory.

"So," Hermione said after a moment. "The OWLs are coming up."

Draco nodded. "Yep."

"Have you started to study?"

"Yeah. Crabbe, Goyle, and I have formed a study group together," he said, glancing around the room. Hermione scoffed, drawing Draco's attention back to her. "What?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

"You're studying with Crabbe and Goyle?" She smirked. "Don't you think that might be a bit foolish?"

Draco shrugged as he set down the stirring rod he had been holding. "Not really. They aren't that bad."

Hermione snorted. "Oh please. They're a regular Dumb and Dumber."

* * *

_148. I will not dress up as Voldemort and dress my friends up as Death Eaters on April Fools Day, because that is just cruel._

April first had finally arrived, and what a momentous day it was. It was the beginning of April and the twins' birthday. The end of the year tests were right around the corner, and the teachers were starting to pile on the homework. Everyone could really use a distraction from the monotonous tedium that was constantly slushing around in their repetitive lives.

Then, during lunch that day, all of a sudden the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open, and in stepped... Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Believe it or not, this was _not_ exactly the kind of distraction most of the students were looking for.

Panic filled the Great Hall as Voldemort and the nine Death Eaters behind him glared at the students from behind their white masks. Some of the students fearfully crawled under the tables, while others ran to the back of the room, and others still stood, as though they were going to fight back.

A seventh year Slytherin jumped to his feet and let out a cheer. "All right Dark Lord," he whooped as he made his way over to the leader of all evil.

Voldemort blinked once, before grinning and saying, "April Fools!"

'Voldemort' (aka Fred Weasley) and the other Death Eaters began cracking up as the seventh year boy stared on in horror, realizing that he had just outed himself as a supporter of of the Dark Lord...

Meanwhile, Umbridge realized that the nine Death Eaters (and Voldemort) were actually the ten kids that had wanted to form the Hogwarts beat-boxing club, and that if only she had accepted it in the first place, she might not have been scared to death on this muggle holiday.

* * *

_149. I am not allowed to start a Death Eater Rehabilitation Center, nor am I allowed to suggest that the Ministry start one._

Ron Weasley had the unfortunate pleasure of having to follow Umbridge back to her classroom later in the day. He was trying to be as diplomatic as possible so as not to earn _another _month's worth of detentions; he and the rest of the 'Death Eaters' had already accomplished that for their stunt earlier in the morning.

"But Professor," he said, trying to keep his voice smooth. "I really _was_ trying to do the world a favor. That boy this morning practically admitted to being a Death Eater," Ron pointed out, raising his eyebrows at the old witch across from him.

Umbridge, however, was not moved by his plea and proceeded to show her distaste by glaring at him. "That does _not_ give you the right to start a Death Eater Rehabilitation Center! And here at Hogwarts no less! What were you thinking?"

"Death Eaters deserve a second chance, just like all of the anorexic blonds in that muggle place Hermione was telling me about. Bollywood," Ron argued. "Why shouldn't I allow them that chance?" Umbridge just shook her head as she pulled out another detention slip and handed it to him. Ron sighed in defeat. "Well, couldn't the Ministry start one, at least?"

* * *

_150. Professor Snape's problem is not that "he needs to get laid"._

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom for being an incompetent fool," Snape snapped as he swept through the dungeons during one particularly brutal potions class.

Neville shook in terror.

"Five points from Gryffindor for foolishly abusing billywings, Mr. Weasley."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Five points from Gryffindor for talking in class, Mr. Potter."

Harry made a face. "Professor, I'm sorry but I have to ask... Is the reason you're in such a bad mood all of the time because you need to get laid?" Shocked silence filled the classroom, and lasted for almost an entire minute as Professor Snape sputtered at his personal insolence.

The detention he received from Snape confirmed his suspicions. Harry turned to Hermione later that class in a rather foul mood. "You know, if you had asked the same question he probably would have answered honestly," he muttered.

The sad thing was, he was right.

* * *

This chapter has two new sections. Can you guess what it is? Last chapter, the new sections were 132 and 138!

Out of this batch, I loved 146, 148, and 150. What about you?

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter and what numbers you liked! I only have six more chapters to go, and then this is done! That's insane! On top of that, this story almost has 900 reviews! Can we reach 900 before the next chapter? Pretty please? I'll do something special if we do...

Thank you all so much for this! I'm having so much fun rewriting this! Cheers!

-Selene


	17. Things 151 to 160

_151. I will not steal Gryffindor's sword from Dumbledore's office and use it to patrol the hallways._

"Ginny..." Draco trailed off slowly. His eyes were wide as he stared at his girlfriend. "Uh... What are you doing?"

"My job," she answered with a small smile. "Or at least, what _will_ be my job when I make prefect next year."

"And that is?"

"To patrol the corridors, of course," she said with a shake of her head. Absentmindedly, she patted her boyfriend on the cheek. "Honestly, Draco. I'd have thought it was obvious."

"Yes, dear," he said, wincing slightly. "But... er, what's the sword for?"

"Oh, this?" Draco jumped back as Ginny pointed the tip of the Gryffindor sword at his heart, a cheeky smile on her face. "Every member of a patrol needs something to enforce their words, Draco. And I thought this would do nicely."

* * *

_152. Yes, the Great Hall is extremely large, but Quidditch is an outdoor sport._

April showers were the worst.

Umbridge didn't care that they supposedly brought flowers about in May, she absolutely _abhorred_ the rain. Because of this weather nightmare, she was trapped inside all day with a bunch of adolescent teenagers with nothing better to do with their time than break important and structured rules...

This was proven correct when she walked into the Great Hall that rainy day to see the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Quidditch teams having a spontaneous Quidditch match inside. "What in the _name_ of Merlin!" she cried.

Fred and George exchanged quick glances. "Crap," George muttered, his eyes darting around to various areas of the Great Hall, looking for an escape route.

Fred, on the other hand, played it cool. Instead of panicking like everyone else around him was doing, he just took a deep breath. He didn't lose his focus; no, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He shot a bludger at Professor Umbridge's head.

As she crumpled to the ground, Professor McGonagall walked into the hall, took one look at the game, and opened her mouth to yell. Then she spotted Umbridge's form knocked out and to the side of the game. She shut her mouth. "Carry on," she said, before backing out of the room.

Fred and George grinned. Once the game was over, they'd move everything back to normal and convince Umbridge she had slipped and hit her head.

* * *

_153. Easter in Hogwarts is not to be celebrated by releasing hordes of pink rabbits and making the first years chase them._

Professor Umbridge was _terrified_. Everywhere in the castle, there was another one, another something pink! Little, magenta rabbits running amok in packs of twenty or so, barring their teeth and pooping and screwing, oh the screwing! It was so nasty and inappropriate, and she had absolutely no idea what to do!

None of the other professors were of any help either, by the way. They all insisted that, as the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, she should take care of the "fuzzy pink bunny problem" herself. Fuzzy pink bunny problem! As though it were as simple of an issue as it sounds!

What made it worse were the hordes of first year students that cantered after the rabbits. If the young students were trying to catch them, she might have had some sympathy, but no! No, they scooped them up and cuddled with them, as though these monstrosities were something to be cherished!

As the day wound to a close, Umbridge realized that she'd never given so many detentions in her entire life. She and Filch and spent all day chasing after the little buggers, who seemed only to multiply like - pardon the pun - _rabbits_. Finally, _finally_, after hours and hours of seemingly endless work, Umbridge sighed and leaned back against the stone wall of the castle. "That's it," she said, her voice soft. "We're done. They're gone."

Out of nowhere - literally, _nowhere_ - another horde of twenty bunnies materialized. "No!" she screamed as she watched them begin to hop around. "No!" It was futile, though. They were there. And, sure enough, moments later a crowd of first year students approached and began to chase them about.

Frustrated, Umbridge ground her foot into the bunny-poo covered stone floor and shouted, "I HATE EASTER!"

From around a corner, Fred and George Weasley high-fived each other.

* * *

_154. I will not attempt to magically animate my marshmallow Peeps._

"I don't... I don't know what to make of this," Ron stuttered. His eyes were wide as he stared down at the pink and yellow marshmallow chicks that stumbled about in the common room.

"Oh, honestly, Ronald," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "They're just Peeps. All I've done was use a simple reanimation spell-"

"Simple? Hermione, you made our candy _move_," he said as he grabbed onto her forearm. "I... if they start to chirp, I don't know if I'll be able to take it."

"Oh, they can't do that," Hermione said, waving the thought away. Then she paused, her eyes glazing over as she looked down at the sugary birds. "Unless..."

She started muttering to herself, and therefore completely missed the horrified look that came across Ron's face.

* * *

_155. I am not allowed to use a silencing charm on my professor._

"And that was when the boggart attacked the muggle in the form of a mythical creature that the muggles invented - a zombini, I believe they're called. Fortunately, the wizards of Essex were there to stop the boggart from killing the muggle. Or eating the muggle's heart, as the muggle believed would occur," Professor Binns said, giving a short, wheezy laugh that melded with his tedious lecture.

Ron rolled his eyes as he leaned his head further onto his arm. He was bored. So, so bored. When was this guy going to stop talking.

He sat up as an idea struck him, one that was too temping to pass up. Slowly, he glanced around the room. All of his fellow classmates were dozing or doodling, even Hermione. No one was paying any attention to him. He sighed to himself as he quietly reached into his bag and grabbed his wand. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures...

"Silencio," he whispered, pointing his wand at Professor Binns. The ghost clawed at his translucent throat, wondering why no sound was coming out of his mouth. The rest of the class began to wake up and Ron grinned to himself. Perfect.

* * *

_156. I am not to tell Nearly Headless Nick that he would lose his head if it wasn't attached._

"Hey Nick," Ginny called out to the ghost one warm spring day as she passed him in the corridor.

"Why hello, Miss Weasley! How _are_ you today?" Nearly Headless Nick asked with a grin.

"Fine, thank you. Have you seen Professor McGonagall? I need her to sign a form for me."

Nick frowned. "No, I can't say that I have. I thought she'd be taking her morning constitutional right about now, but if appears she has skipped it for the day."

Ginny shook her head. "Figures you wouldn't know where she is. You probably don't know where anything is, anymore. You'd lose your head if it weren't attached, Nick," she muttered as she stomped off, leaving Nick on the verge of tears... if ghosts could cry, that is.

* * *

_157. My name is not Captain Subtext. _

Ron was leaning against the wall outside of the Gryffindor tower when Hermione walked up. She arched an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a sharp nod. "Forget the password, did you?"

He bristled for a moment, seemingly annoyed by her greeting, before he said, "You just haven't given me your password yet."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What are you on about?"

"I'm not on anything," Ron said with a shrug. "Though I certainly would like to be." He winked at her.

Suddenly, Hermione was feeling very uncomfortable with the situation. She took a step back and said, "Why are you addressing me like this?"

"How else would I address someone like you," Ron said as he looked her up and down. That was enough for Hermione, though. She couldn't take it. His words were so suggestive and weird that Hermione panicked. So she hauled off and punched him in the face. Instantly, Ron's act dropped. "Ow! Why'd you do that, Hermione?"

"_Me_? You're the one who was being creepy. What the hell is wrong with you, Ron?" Hermione asked as she pulled out her wand.

"Nothing!" Ron said holding up both of his hands. He eyed Hermione's wand warily. "Nothing, I swear. It was just another item from Fred and George's list. I had to be Captain Subtext."

* * *

_158. I'm not allowed to use Harry's broom to sweep the fireplace._

"Hey Hermione," Harry said as he and Ron entered the common room one night. The two of them had been playing wizard's chess down in the Great Hall with Neville and Luna. They used it as a way to procrastinate on their homework, the same homework that now desperately needed to be done as it was due the next day... "Uh, what are you doing?"

The bushy-haired brunette, gripped the broom she was holding tightly as she looked up at the boys. "Helping the house elves out," she answered with a grin. Hermione looked like a regular Cinderella right then; her hair was tied up in a bandana, she had old clothes on, and there was dirt covering her face as she swept the fireplace-

Hang on...

"Is that my broom?" Harry cried as he lunged forward, grabbing the Firebolt from the Gryffindor princess.

"Well," Hermione said nervously as she backed away from the glaring boy. "I couldn't find another one. You have no idea how hard it is to find a nonmagical broom in a magical school!"

* * *

_159. I am not qualified to perform exorcisms on Hogwarts ghosts because attempting to do so will merely offend them._

"You painted on the chicken blood, right?"

"Yeah," Fred said in answer to his twin brother. He he spread the candles out into a slightly wider circle, he glanced down at the black plastic watch that rested on his right wrist. "You reckon it's time to light the candles now?"

George nodded, placing the spell book down on the floor in order to better position himself in front of the candles. "Probably." He pulled out his wand, and gave a small nod as Fred did the same.

"Right, then. Let's do it."

They never got the chance to, however. Moaning Myrtle drifted over to them, interrupting their fire spell with a questioning look in her eyes. "What are you two doing?" she asked suspiciously.

"Hey Myrtle, do you know where we can get a picture of you?" Fred inquired without a segue, ignoring her question completely.

She blinked, taken aback. "Why do you need one?" she asked.

"Because we think you're relatively attractive," Fred said with a grin.

George rolled his eyes at his brother's joke - for it most definitely _was_ a joke. "We're performing an exorcism. So... do you have a picture of yourself?"

Myrtle proceeded to flee as quickly as she could. She went immediately to find Peeves. She convinced him to help her burn all of the pictures of herself she could find. She would _not_ be exorcised, dammit! They weren't getting rid of her that easily.

* * *

_160. Kissing booths are NOT allowed._

"Come on now, ladies! Step on up! Fulfill your fantasy," Fred teased with a slight smile.

"Live your dream," George added with a wink.

"Give in to your dirtiest desire!"

"Succumb to sin-

"-and kiss the man of your dreams!" the twins both exclaimed together as they waved their hands out towards the five prospective men standing on the magically constructed platform in the Great Hall.

"Are you a romantic? Then have a go with your very own Fred Weasley!" George bellowed.

"Shy? Quiet? Don't like the spotlight?" Fred took up. "Then Harry Potter is right for you!"

"Do you have a secret _wild_ side?" George asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "Then Ron Weasley is your man!"

"Crave a funny wizard? You need George Weasley!"

"Do you want someone who is a good listener? Then Neville Longbottom is the man for you!"

"And we even have Ginny Weasley here, for all of your lovely ladies who swing that way," Fred said with a wink.

From off to the side, Draco blanched. "Hey! That's my _girlfriend!_"

"Only _five_ sickles! Five sickles will get you the kiss of a lifetime. Five sickles..." the twins trailed off together as they spotted, in the back of the room, a stern-faced McGonagall standing there with her arms crossed. She quirked an eyebrow. "Do I even need to say it?" she asked the boys.

Slowly, they sighed. "No," they droned simultaneously.

"Follow me, boys."


	18. Things 161 to 170

_161. I will not refer to Professor McGonagall as Catwoman, no matter how funny she would look in tight leather._

"The art of being an animagus is a complex branch of Transfiguration in and of itself. Something like that however - which I'm sure I've mentioned before - is strictly under the Ministry's control, as it is too dangerous for anyone to attempt on their own."

Hermione's hand, quite predictably, shot up. "Professor, do the wizards and witches who become animagi get to pick their animals?"

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, they do. The Ministry lets the witch or wizard decide what animal they would like to become. It's all a personal preference."

To everyone's surprise, Ron's hand then went up. "Why did you pick a cat, Catwoman?"

McGonagall tapped her finger to her mouth, pondering. "Well a cat has always been able to- Wait a moment. What did you call me, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron grinned sheepishly. "Catwoman," he muttered, quietly mentioning something about "blackmail" and "tight leather" as Harry silently shook with suppressed laughter nearby.

* * *

_162. I am not to suggest to Dumbledore that Quidditch is far too dangerous a sport and should be replaced with American football._

"Professor, the number of concussions this so called _sport_ brings is insanely high," Hermione said one day to Dumbledore in his office. His eyes twinkled across the desk from her, and she got the rather unfortunate feeling that he wasn't taking her seriously. "Not to mention the number of times Quidditch players have been sent to the infirmary..."

"What are you saying, Miss Granger?"

"Quidditch is far too dangerous of a sport, and it shouldn't be allowed at Hogwarts anymore," Hermione told him with her head high. She allowed her hands to tumble neatly into her lap as she waited for his response.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "So we should just give up on house sports, then? Because they're dangerous?" he asked, a note of surprise present in his voice. Whatever he'd been expecting from his star student, it certainly wasn't this.

"Not at all. I believe we should replace Quidditch with a safer sport. Like... American football."

* * *

_163. Calling the Ghostbusters is a cruel joke to play on the resident ghosts and poltergeists._

"All right, ma'am. Where are the ghosts?"

Hermione blinked up at the four men in front of her as the Bloody Baron floated by. She nodded her head in the direction of the translucent, silvery being. "You have to _ask_?"

"Look, we don't tell you how to do your job, do we?" Peter asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. "No. So you just tell us were the ghosts are-"

"Hello, Hermione," Nearly Headless Nick called as he floated over to them. "Who are these people?" He eyed them wearily as he came to a stop, floating right next to the young Gryffindor girl.

Hermione thrust out both of her hands in a ta-da manner toward Nearly Headless Nick and faced the Ghostbusters. "You guys," she said in an authoritative voice, "please. It's not that hard. Just use your bloody _eyes!_"

The boys, however, just exchanged glances. "I don't see any ghosts."

* * *

_164. When accepting a challenge for a duel, I must allow the other guy the time to find a wand._

Everyone in Hogwarts knew that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter hated each other. Well, at least they used to, anyway. Once it was revealed that Draco was dating Ginny, Harry really didn't have any other choice but to pretend to get along with the ferret. He cared about Ginny deeply as a sister, and if Malfoy made her happy, then he'd just have to accept her choice. He had, however, found a suitable replacement for the coveted position as 'Harry Potter's rival':

Blaise Zabini.

"You want to mess with me, Potter?" Zabini yelled in the Entrance Hall one day as a large crowd of people looked on, fascinated by the chaos occuring.

"Oh, it's on!" Harry yelled back.

"Fine! Let's duel," Zabini snapped, his eyes narrowing into a glare.

"Fine!" Harry pulled his wand from his back pocket just as Zabini was slowly slipping his hand into his robes. "_Stupify!"_ Zabini was instantly knocked unconscious, his hand still in his pocket from where he was trying to grab his wand, even though he lay in a heap on the floor. "That's what you get for picking a fight with me, Zabini."

Nearby, Ginny and Draco simultaneously shook their heads. "He was supposed to give Blaise the time to find a wand," Draco muttered before Ginny shut him up with a kiss.

* * *

_165. I am not authorized to negotiate a peace treaty with Voldemort._

_Dear Lord Voldemort aka He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named aka the scary bald guy aka Tom,_

_We understand that you had a rough childhood, being an orphan and all, but taking it out on innocent people is wrong. This is why we propose a peace treaty. The terms are fairly easy to follow, and we are sure that you'll agree:_

_1. You have to stop killing people. It's wrong and morally repugnant._

_2. Stop making the Death Eaters wear creepy white masks. It's a little too masquerade for our liking and it makes your followers look gaudy and ridiculous. It's hard to take them seriously (just as it's hard to take you seriously while you're still bald...)._

_3. Don't try to kill Harry. Again. You've already tried and failed four times, enough is enough. Stop embarrassing yourself._

_4. What's with the Dark Mark appearing in the sky? Are you trying to signal Batman? Not only is it annoying, it's also dumb, because now everyone knows where you are. Don't use it anymore._

_5. And finally: leave the dementors alone. If you keep up your treaty with them, you're going to eventually have to do something awkward like invite them to dinner to show your support of them, and something tells us after that disaster of an evening no one will ever want to go to your house again. Ever._

_If you comply to our demands, we will build you a pretty Hogwarts-esque castle for you to live in. It's a win-win situation_

_Thanks!_

_-WWW_

Fred and George exchanged excited glances. "All right," George said with a grin. "Let's go borrow Pig."

* * *

_166. My life motto may not be "what happens in Hogwarts, _stays_ in Hogwarts"._

George kissed Katie fully on the mouth as his hands intwined themselves into her hair. There was nothing better than snogging in an empty corridor late at night. Absolutely nothing. Katie pulled back slightly; her cheeks were flushed and her lips were a deep red color. "George, maybe we should stop this," she said with a grin as she smoothed a hand down his wrinkled black shirt.

George just laughed. "You know what my motto is, Katie?"

She tilted her head to the side flirtatiously. "No."

"Whatever happens in Hogwarts, _stays _in Hogwarts_."_ She laughed as George bent down to kiss her again, this time wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her even closer to him.

A few yards away, Fred stood underneath Harry's invisibility cloak with Collin's camera in his hand. With a wicked grin, he whispered to himself, "not for long." Triumphantly, he took another picture. "After all, all's fair in love and war."

* * *

_167. Just because Snape looks like an overgrown bat, that doesn't make him Batman._

"Bloody hell," Lee Jordan screeched as the contents of his cauldron boiled, bubbled, and spilt over. His eyes widened in worry as the browning gunk slid down the side of his pewter cauldron. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"Don't worry, Lee," Fred said out of the corner of his mouth. "Everything is going to be fine."

"What?" Lee was confused by his friend's reassurances; what he'd just done wasn't exactly life threatening, just a detention waiting to happen. It was unfortunate, to be sure, but with all of the detentions he and the rest of the school had been serving thanks to Umbridge, one more surely wouldn't make a difference.

"Here comes Batman," George shouted as Snape swept towards Lee. "He's here to save the day!"

The class laughed as Snape turned around in one fluid motion, his robe billowing out behind him like bat's wings. Fred laughed even harder. "Where is Robin, mate?" he said with a grin. "I don't think he can save the day alone."

* * *

_168. I will not start food fights in the Great Hall._

Nobody knows who started it. Even to this day, the identity of the lone solider who began this battle remains one of the biggest unsolved mysteries of Hogwarts. All that is known for sure iss that everything was normal, calm, quiet... and then the scream erupted from out of no where.

"Food fight!"

Suddenly, the school became a war zone. Mashed potatoes went towards the Slytherins as they lobbied turkey legs back at the Ravenclaws. The tables were being flipped on their sides and used as cover to block the food as the teachers tried to stop the madness.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Snape grab McGonagall by the waist and pull her through the door behind the staff table. She grinned to herself as she watched her plan unfold.

Perfect.

* * *

_169. I will not douse Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak with lemon juice to see if it will become visible near the fire in the common room._

Curfew had set in, but the night was still young. "What do you say we get out of here for a while, Ron?" Harry asked, pulling his invisibility cloak from his bag... before dropping it. "What on earth?"

"What's wrong?" Ron asked as he kicked his feet up onto the footstool in front of him.

Harry held the invisibility cloak up to the fire. "It's wet," he said, his brow furrowing in anger. "Wet and sticky. How did that happen?"

"Damn." The boys turned quickly to find Fred and George standing with crossed arms and matching frowns. "It looks like it doesn't become visible with lemon juice."

* * *

_170. The "I Hate Umbridge" Club is not a valid after-class activity._

Umbridge barged into the classroom without knocking, ready to bust the students rumored to be partaking in a club that she hadn't approved. "What is going on here?" she said in her sickly-sweet voice, a glare already in place on her face.

Within the small classroom, she found the ten wannabe beat-box club members sitting around in a circle, as if they were about to start singing camp songs. They looked up at her in surprise at her sudden entrance. "Professor," Ron said quickly. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard there was some illegal club activities going on here," Umbridge said, looking suspiciously around the room. "And as you know, that sort of illegal behavior will _not_ be tolerated in my school."

Ron sighed. "You caught us. We're in a secret club. I'm sorry." He hung his head in mock shame.

"What club is this?" Umbridge growled, taking out her clipboard. "What sort of... childish club was so important to you that you'd be willing to break my educational decrees in order to participate in it?" She frowned. "It's not beat-boxing again, is it?"

Ron looked up and shook his head, trying his hardest to hide his grin. "No, actually. It's the 'I Hate Umbridge' Club."

* * *

A thousand reviews! Wow! Thank you all, you're so amazing!


	19. Things 171 to 180

_171. I will not sign Malfoy up for voluntary service with Muggles. _

Everyone was used to Ron Weasley storming into the Great Hall to confront Draco. It'd happened twice already that year; it wasn't much of a shock anymore. When Draco Malfoy slammed open the double doors and marched over to Ginny, though, the entire hall fell silent.

"What did you do?" he yelled. Clutched tightly in his hand were three or four glossy leaflets. "How could you?"

"It'll be good for you, Draco," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes.

"No! No it bloody won't!"

"You're making a scene," Ginny snapped. She kept her eyes forward, not looking at him.

"And you're making a mistake!" he spat back. "I will _not_ do this. Ever. Nothing you say can make me. Got that, Ginny? Nothing!"

"We'll see."

"No we bloody well won't-"

"Excuse me," a rather bewildered Harry said as he leaned across the table and into their conversation. "Just what exactly are you taking about?"

Draco scowled and thrust the flyers into the Boy Who Lived's face. "Weaselette here signed me up to be a voluntary Muggle _dog-walker_. I will _not_ walk someone else's chihuahua!"

* * *

_172. I'm not to write an unauthorized biography of Harry Potter. _

Harry knew that Hermione Granger was a know-it-all bookworm, but _this_ was just excessive.

Everywhere he went, she was scribbling fiercely on a thick stack of parchment. The library, the Great Hall, on the front steps of the castle... Harry even overheard Lavender tell Parvati that Hermione even wrote while she was in the _bath_. Harry didn't think that kind of obsession was good for anyone's health.

One warm Tuesday, he decided that enough was enough. He was going to intervene and get her to take a break, dammit! Yes, OWLs were coming up, but she would go mad if she didn't come up for air every now and again.

"Hermione! Stop it, stop the studying," Harry said as he slammed his hands down onto her work.

She jumped, startled by his appearance, and quickly moved her arm to cover her writing. "Harry, what-"

"This isn't healthy!" he said, ignoring her attempts to pry the pages from him. "It's tiresome and overtaxing, and..." he trailed off as he glanced down at her parchment and spotted something. "Is that my name in your homework?"

A flush began to form across Hermione's neck. "Um..."

After a brief scuffle, Harry grabbed the pages from Hermione's hands and read over the first paragraph. After a moment, he looked up. "Hermione," he said, his voice an eerie calm. "Why are you writing about my second year at Hogwarts?"

"Um... well... Homework?" she offered.

He wasn't convinced. "Hermione!"

"It's an unauthorized biography!" she blurted out at last. "I'm sorry, I just thought-"

"Hermione!"

"Well, at least I'll get all of the facts right!" she said. "Don't tell me you'd rather have Rita Skeeter write about your life!"

"I'd rather have _no one_ write about me!" Harry said. He crumpled the page Hermione had been working on. Her face fell. "I didn't give you permission to do this!"

She blinked. She couldn't help it. "I know. Hence the term 'unauthorized,' Harry."

* * *

_173. I will not tape a sign that says "Available" onto the backs of Hermione and Ron._

"Hey mate," Harry said, walking up to Ron and slapping him on the back. "How are you?"

"Fine. Are you okay?" Ron asked, eyeing Harry. Harry wasn't generally so touchy-feely, and this was a wee bit concerning to Ron. The boy was acting so strange...

"Fine, fine," he said as he backed away. "See you!"

Ron stared after his friend for a moment before shrugging and walking over to Hermione. "Harry's acting a bit odd, isn't he?" Ron sat down at the table.

Hermione nodded. "Yes he is. He just came over to me, said hi, slapped me on the back, and then left. What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Ron was about to shrug, but the wheels in his head were turning - turning faster then they ever had before - and suddenly he reached over to Hermione's back (as she protested) and pulled a sign off of it. _Available,_ it read. Hermione set her jaw as Ron pulled one off of his own back. "I'm going to kill him," she said.

"I'll help," he added.

* * *

174. _I will not steal veritaserum from Snape's store and add some to the teachers' morning tea._

"Good morning, Pomona. How are you?" Minerva asked as she sat down in the Great Hall for breakfast one morning.

"I was better before Dolores got here," she said, perhaps a little too loudly. She blushed and shook her head. "Terribly sorry. That was rude of me."

"It's understandable. Just perhaps not so wise," Minerva said as she took a sip of her morning tea.

"Indeed. Does anyone like her?"

"Oh, Pomona-" She paused, her head tilted to the side before she said. "I do think Dolores is my least favorite professor here." She blinked. "I don't know why... Is something going wrong?"

"I don't know," Pomona answered with a frown. "Perhaps we've been jinxed... but who could have done this?"

"I don't know-" Minerva started to say.

It was Sybil who cut her off. "Probably Severus. He's always been rather cruel to me."

"Sybil! You hold your tongue!"

"Oh, you can't honestly tell me you like the man, Minerva." She paused. "Do you?"

Her face grew red; it was apparent that she was trying not to speak. "I... I love him!" She grabbed her mouth, mortified.

Then, from behind her, "You do?"

She turned, coming face to face with Severus Snape himself. "Yes. I do."

A blush started around his ears, but he seemed rather pleased when he said, "Well... thank you."

She blanched. "Thank you? That's it? Do you have nothing else to say to me?"

"I suppose I love you too, my dear." He snapped his mouth shut, his eyes narrowing as he reached for his cup. Peering inside, he sniffed and said, "Veritaserum."

Pomona paused. "Oh, that explains so much."

Minerva, on the other hand, was past caring. "You love me, Severus? Truly?"

"Truly."

The pair leaned in and kissed. Various sounds erupted from throughout the Great Hall, where all of the students had been watching the spectacle unfold. Some thought it was adorable, others thought it was disgusting. Hermione Granger, however, smiled a knowing smile. _Perfect._

In response to something Hagrid had quietly asked, however, Umbridge shouted "I HATE YOU ALL!" That ruined the moment a bit.

* * *

_175. I will not tell Professor Trelawney that my teacup says she's lying._

"Well," Trelawney said ominously, shaking her head as she stared into her teacup. The many bangles and bracelets on her arms jangled and clanged obnoxiously as she spoke. "It seems that one of you will die before the year is out. Poor dear." She turned her gaze to Harry sadly.

Ron raised his hand. "Professor!"

Trelawney turned. "Yes, Mr Weasley?"

"Harry's not going to die." He flashed the inside of his teacup to the rest of the class. "He's going to live."

"Why dear boy, what makes you say that?" Trelawney asked with raised eyebrows and a flourish of her arms.

"My teacup says you're lying."

* * *

_176. I will not refer to any perplexing problem as a "hatch" in an effort to allude to the popular Muggle TV show LOST._

"I wonder when that old hag is going to leave," Harry muttered as Umbridge waddled past them at breakfast one morning.

"Maybe we can get her axed," Fred suggested. "Pin something on her."

"She works for the Ministry," Ginny snorted as she shook her head. Sometimes, she was a little awed by how thick her brothers could be. "That's never going to work."

"We can always try and get her to quit," Harry said with a shrug. "Something has to annoy her enough so that she'd want to leave."

"You throwing water on her didn't work, and I don't think anything else will," Fred said drily.

Hermione shook her head, staring off into the distance. "This is definitely a hatch."

* * *

_177. I am not a mime!_

Minerva McGonagall was slightly unnerved by the sight of Fred and George Weasley. They wore matching black and white striped, long-sleeve shirts and black hats. Their faces were painted stark white, and their lips were a ghastly black color.

What was particularly disturbing was the way the twins pawed at the air with white gloved hands. Minerva couldn't tell what they were trying to do. Were they cursed and looking for help? Doing some Weasley-esque experiment? Or were they just playing another idiotic prank?

It was the latter that Minerva bet on.

Still, she thought it her duty to approach the twins and make sure they were all right. "Boys," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "What is this?"

They said nothing, but continued to flap at the air. Fred waved his hands around in giant circles. George made a tugging motion. "Answer me!"

George continued to tug, but Fred frowned and placed a finger to his lips. Minerva's arms fell to her sides as her eyes narrowed into a glare. "Are you telling me to be quiet, Mr Weasley?"

Frantically, Fred began to shake his head and wave his arms about. "No? I find that hard to believe-"

"I'M A MIME!" Fred shouted in a slightly sing-song voice. Beside him, George slapped his palm to his head.

* * *

_178. Growing marijuana is not an "extra credit project" for Herbology._

Professor Sprout wasn't a strict woman; generally, if a student asked to do an extra credit project, the professor would happily agree. She'd even go so far as to let the child pick the project themselves. Her only goal as a professor, after all, was to motivate and encourage her students to foster a love for Herbology. She wanted to do everything in her power to excite them.

Allowing them to grow marijuana, however, was _not_ one of those ways! It went against everything that she was trying to teach her students about magical plants and creations. It was an abominable Muggle plant that was good for absolutely nothing.

...Or, at least, that's what she thought until she walked into a room Hermione had filled with marijuana smoke...

* * *

_179. I am not to tell Draco that I know all about his affair with Hermione Granger._

When Ron stormed over to the Slytherin table late one morning - over by where Draco and his friends sat - all of the students in the Great Hall turned in their seats to watch, expecting another superb show, just like the last time he'd down so. They weren't disappointed.

"I know," Ron growled as his hands curled into fists by his side.

"What are you talking about this time, Weasley?" Malfoy asked wearily.

"Your affair," Ron spat. "I know all about it."

From the Gryffindor side of the room, Ginny blinked in shock as Draco began stuttering. "What affair? I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"A certain bookworm would beg to differ," Ron said smugly,

"Excuse me," Hermione huffed, standing up from the Gryffindor table as all eyes turned to her. "I did no such thing!"

Ron's mouth dropped open in surprise. "But you said Draco was bad in bed."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, I said Draco was bad _in the head_." She turned to the blond boy in question. "No offense, but you can't be all that smart if you study with Crabbe and Goyle."

Draco held up his hands. "None taken."

Ginny smirked at her older brother. "Stop trying to break us up, Ron. It's not going to work."

* * *

_180. When caught sleeping in class, I'm not allowed to claim the Negaverse stole all of my energy and the Sailor Scouts have yet to get it back._

Professor Snape sighed as he spotted the Gryffindor princess sleeping in the back of his classroom. He really didn't want to go yell at her. She _had,_ after all, helped him to confess his true love for Minerva by distracting everyone else with the food fight. But he had a reputation to uphold; it looked like he had no choice.

Tapping her desk loudly, Snape spoke. "Miss Granger, what are you doing sleeping in _my _class?"

Granger sat up slowly, her eyes dull with fatigue. "I'm sorry, Professor," she muttered. "I didn't mean to sleep on you. It's just... the Negaverse stole all of my energy."

He blinked. "What?"

She nodded. "Yes, and until the Sailor Scouts can get it all back, I'm going to be tired like this."

Snape stood there pondering this answer for a moment before rolling his eyes. "I see," he said, leaving her be. She _did _get him together with Minerva, after all. If she was really so exhausted that she had to babble incoherently, then he could let the sleeping slide this once.

* * *

Thanks for the reviews!


	20. Things 181 to 190

_181. I am not allowed to organize a witch burning for Muggle Studies._

"Uh, Fred? Are you sure this is okay?" Colin asked. His hands were bound beside him, and he was tied securely to a large stake in the middle of the Muggle Studies classroom. Next to him, two fourth year girls were also bound to stakes. The rope was thick and itchy, and Colin was starting to get nervous that maybe they'd have trouble releasing him.

"Yeah, of course it is," Fred said. He addressed his brother. "Might need a bit more kindling there," he said pointing towards a spot at Colin's feet.

"Oh, right. Sorry. Wouldn't want a small fire at a witch burning, would we?"

"Definitely not."

"Good morning, students," Professor McGonagall's voice called out from the back of the classroom. Instantly, Fred and George's hearts sank. They knew what was coming. "Your professor is ill today, and so I..." she trailed off as she caught the twins' display. She sighed. "Really? Even in here? This isn't my class, yet I catch you breaking the rules."

George grimaced. "Well... you could look the other way." At McGonagall's sharp frown, though, George backpedaled. "Or not."

* * *

_182. A wand is for magic only. It is not for playing the drums on my desk, no matter how bored I become._

The end of the year sucked.

Ginny Weasley wasn't the only student who had been consumed by the end-of-the-year fever, but she was the only one who chose to share her misery with the rest of the class. Just as Professor Flitwick began to write something on the board, she began.

_Boom cah, boom boom cah. Ba ba boom cah cah, boom cah. Ba ba boom cah, boom boom cah._

The class turned to stare at her as she banged away on her desk with her wand. She looked up at her astonished classmates and shrugged. "If you don't like Linkin Park's _Faint_, I can play something else."

* * *

_183. I am not allowed to predict the end of the world more than once_.

"No! Nooo!"

The entire Gryffindor common room started as Harry Potter burst through the portrait hole screaming. His hands were balled into fists and tears shone behind his slightly crooked glasses. His classmates waited, holding their breaths, to see what was ailing the Golden Boy so much.

"It's the world!" he said with a slight sob. He slammed his fist against his chest. "The world. It's coming to an end! Nooo!"

After a moment's pause - during which Harry continued to scream as he collapsed onto the floor - the common room flourished back into life. By the fire, Seamus and Dean shook their heads. "Not again," Seamus muttered.

* * *

_184. When called upon in class, I shall not insist that the correct answer to everything is 'C'._

"Mr Potter," Professor Umbridge said, waking Harry up from his mid-morning nap one Thursday morning as the fifth year Defense Against the Dark Arts class prepared for their OWLs. "When is a shield charm best used?"

Harry blinked, not entirely awake yet. Crap, he should have been paying attention, shouldn't he? Ah well, back to the old stand by. Whenever you don't know it... "The correct answer is C, Professor."

Umbridge blinked. "What do you mean C? This wasn't a multiple choice question."

* * *

_185. I am not allowed to earn extra credit points with teachers by teaching students how to Dougie._

"Swivel your knees inward like this," Harry said as he demonstrated the motion. "No, swivel, Padma. Not jerk. Swivel. It needs to have a smoother motion."

"That's what I did!"

"No, it isn't."

"George, I swear to Merlin, if you make one more lewd pelvic thrust, it will be the last thing you do," Hermione snapped as she pulled out her wand. "That is _not_ how you do this. Now watch me one more time."

"Bossy," Fred muttered.

"Know-it-all," George added. He and the rest of the members of the DA/Hogwarts Beat-Box group/Fight Club/I Hate Umbridge Brigade all went back to following the dance moves of their two Muggle-raised peers.

Suddenly, a new voice spoke. "What are you doing?" Professor McGonagall asked. She sounded tired, and who could blame her? This lot of kids kept on breaking the rules and pulling ridiculous stunts. On the one hand, she certainly didn't mind watching Dolores run amok and fumble in cleaning these pranks up. On the other hand, however, some of the things these students were doing were absolutely idiotic, if not dangerous. She was running low on energy.

"Teaching, Professor," Hermione answered with a modest smile. "You know, for that extra credit you assigned."

McGonagall remembered. She allowed any student to have ten points of extra credit if they could prove they taught a fellow classmate. She wanted to believe Hermione and go on with her day. Unfortunately, the Weasley twins were involved in whatever this was. She knew better than to turn her back on that. "Teaching what, exactly?"

"Oh, we're teaching them how to Dougie!"

McGonagall blanched. She hadn't expected that. "To what?"

"Dougie! It's a dance move," Hermione explained.

"A dance move," McGonagall said with a blink. "For extra credit?"

"Yes, Professor!"

"No! That doesn't count!"

"But Professor McGonagall, we're just following the instructions of the song," Harry protested.

She almost regretted asking. "The song?"

"Yes. It says to 'teach me how to Dougie, teach - teach me how to Dougie. Teach me how to Dougie, teach - teach me how to Dougie!"

* * *

_186. Stripping during breakfast is not a great way to show Gryffindor bravery._

It was just another dull morning at Hogwarts. Owls were flying in and out of the Great Hall, students were chatting amicably, and teachings were eating breakfast. Of course, all of the fifth years were freaking out, seeing as it was the day before the OWLs, but for the rest of the students, the morning couldn't drag on any slower.

All of a sudden, Fred and George stood in one, fluid motion. Stepping up onto the table (as Umbridge consequently immediately started yelling at them), they grinned and began to take off their shirts.

It was McGonagall who was the closest to getting the situation under control. "_What_ are you two doing?" she screeched, her eyes wide in anger.

"Stripping," Fred answered nonchalantly. "Care to join us?"

The awkwardness of the situation did not fail to escape McGonagall, but she put his comment aside for a later time. "I thought I stopped this strip Quidditch business earlier this year!"

Umbridge's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?"

"Not now Dolores."

George gave her a sly grin as he took off his belt. "We're not doing it because of Quidditch. We're showing our Gryffindor bravery. You don't see any of the Slytherins up here, do you?"

* * *

_187. I must not practice tripping jinxes on Filch._

"That's five points for me," Fred whispered to his brother as Filch brushed himself off. "What am I up to, now? Thirty?"

"Thirty-five," George grumbled. "And that's only because he actually fell _once_!"

"Ah, yes. The infamous twenty point spill," Fred said with a grin. "That makes your meager sixteen points look down right pathetic, don't you think?"

"We'll see about that," George muttered as he pointed his wand at the caretaker. With a small wave, he sent a tripping jinx towards Filch. It hit him square in the back. He let out a short shriek... and promptly fell down the stairs.

Fred and George winced as they heard his body hit the ground. "That was too far, wasn't it?" George asked.

"Yeah, probably. I tell you what, though. That's definitely worth at least twenty points, if not more."

* * *

_188. I will not use magic to change test questions into those I can answer._

The OWLs had finally arrived, and Harry had _no_ idea what the heck he was doing. It wasn't _his_ fault that he'd spent all of his time preparing to face Voldemort instead of studying. Because, despite what Hermione may have believed, to him _surviving_ was more important than receiving good marks on his exams. Of course, all of his survival weren't necessarily helpful at the moment...

_18. What is the name of the summoning charm?_

As he sat in the Great Hall during the written portion of his Charms exam, he could not for the life of him remember what the summoning charm was called, other then The Force. But something told him that wasn't the right answer...

Stealthily, he looked to the left and to the right before pulling out his wand and saying a quick spell. Number eighteen changed before his eyes.

_18. What is one way to refer to the summoning charm other then by it's name?_

Harry grinned as he wrote The Force. Perfect.

* * *

_189. I'm not allowed to refer to Umbridge's band of Slytherins as the Others in another effort to allude to LOST._

Hermione watched as Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson dragged Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny into Umbridge's office. Harry's eyes widened considerably, probably in panic. She didn't think he had been able to contact Sirius, and he was probably bummed that they had gotten caught by Umbridge, of all people.

"Well, well, well," Umbridge said cheerfully. "What do we have here? Who were you trying to contact."

"That's none of your business," Hermione said fearlessly.

"Hold your tongue, girl," Umbridge snapped. She signaled to Blaise to tighten his hold on the Muggle-born witch.

"You leave her alone," Ginny screeched, blindly kicking out.

"I don't take orders from blood traitors," Blaise sneered, his eyes narrowing. "Or people who date blood traitors. Where's your little boyfriend, Weaselette?"

"He's more man than you are," Ginny yelled.

Blaise snorted. "Hardly. He's worthless."

"Just because Juliet left the Others, that doesn't mean she's worthless," Hermione gasped.

Blaise loosened his hold slightly, thinking maybe he had been cutting off her supply of oxygen, and that's why she was talking crazy.

* * *

_190. I will not refer to Umbridge as Queen of the Toads, even if she really is._

The Forbidden Forest sucked.

Umbridge supposed that was one of the reasons it was forbidden, but she was almost ready to give up this wild-goose-chase to find Dumbledore's secret weapon, that's how awkward, defenseless, and uncomfortable she felt. She could not be bothered with traipsing through the forest any longer. "Where is it? Where's the weapon?"

Hermione looked quickly around, drawing Umbridge deeper and deeper into the forest and leaving the others more time to escape. "Somewhere around here," she muttered. Where was he?

All of a sudden, a giant hand swooped down from the treetops and grabbed Umbridge, pulling her away. "Ahhh!" she screamed as Grawp held her with a malicious grin upon his face. "Help!"

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Later, Queen of the Toads." She motioned to the stunned Boy-Who-Lived. "Come on, Harry. Let's go find the others and rescue Sirius."

* * *

Thanks for the reviews!


	21. Things 191 to 200

_191. Should I chance to see a Death Eater wearing a white mask, I should not start singing anything from 'Phantom of the Opera'._

"Why is your name on that," Ginny whispered to Harry as she pointed to the silver prophecy on the shelf.

"Only one way to find out, isn't there?" Slowly, Harry reached out for the orb that sat in the Department of Mysteries, his fingers lightly wrapping themselves around the object despite Hermione's weak protests.

Suddenly, the air around them was disturbed as Death Eaters appeared in the aisle. The six Gryffindors immediately moved into a tighter clump, shocked at the sudden invasion. The white masks of Voldemort's minions gleamed in the light...

They knew they needed to appear tough, that they couldn't show any weakness. And so, they began to sing. "_Masquerade! Paper faces on parade . . . Masquerade! Hide your face, so the world will never find you!"_

* * *

_192. It is impolite to call Lucius "Lucy". _

"Give me the prophecy," one of several dark figures hissed.

"Never," Harry glared back.

"Now, now Mr. Potter," the man chuckled with a shake of his head. "You simply have to. After all, you wouldn't want anything to happen to your friends... Or would you?"

"Wait a minute," Fred piped up suddenly, pointing to the masked man. "I know you!"

"As do I," George nodded.

The twins exchanged glances before looking back at the Death Eaters' spokesman with a pair of matching grins. "Hiya, Lucy."

* * *

_193. Even though they are easier to use and probably more effective, I will not use guns against the Death Eaters._

"Run!" Harry screamed, smashing several prophecies to the ground as the group took off. Fred, George, and Ginny went one way, sprinting as fast as they could back in the general direction they had come from. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed together, and unknowingly went deeper into the Department of Mysteries.

The Death Eaters were gaining, and Ron knew it. Hermione had fallen behind by a few feet. "Come on, Hermione!" he screamed, heading for a door. The three of them entered through it, going to the back of the room to try and find another way out just as the Death Eaters appeared. "Hermione!" Ron yelled, trying to get her to hurry up and get closer to himself and Harry.

_Bam! Bam bam!_

Harry and Ron's mouths dropped open simultaneously, and they turned around as Hermione pulled from her pocket a second clip for her nine mm and began shooting at the enemy. The Death Eaters were stunned, most of them being pureblood and having never seen such an object before.

She hit Dolohov in his right shoulder, and he went down screaming. "What are you doing?" Harry screeched.

"Saving you," she yelled back. "Go on, get out of here! I'll cover you." She fired off three more shots.

"What if you run out of bullets-"

"I've got fifty rounds; I'll be good for awhile," she said, backing up slightly as she continued to fire. "My dad taught me how to hunt when I was little. I know what I'm doing."

Malfoy entered the room then, dislike heavy and present on his face. "Can I have a go?" Ron asked, staring at the brainiac with a look of reverence.

"Are you _mad?_" she cried, shooting at Malfoy and barely missing. "You have no idea what you're doing." She ran out of rounds. "Cover me!" she yelled as she began to reload the gun.

Harry quickly shot a spell at Lucius Malfoy. Ron turned to Hermione as more Death Eaters entered the room. "Come on," he pleaded. "Let me try!"

"Ron, this is not a toy!"

"But-"

"No!"

"Please?"

"Absolutely not!"

"How about-"

"Merlin, just get a room already," Harry shouted with a roll of his eyes as Hermione began shooting again.

"Too late, mate," Ron said sheepishly. "We already did."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "What?" He barely missed being hit by a stunner.

* * *

_194. I am not allowed to call a time-turner a "pocket TARDIS"._

As Harry, Ron and Hermione rounded a corner and screeched back into the room with all of the time-turners, a spell flew towards Hermione. The brunette barely managed to dodge it, sliding on her side as she fired off a shot at her assailant.

"You've got to admit, she's pretty wicked," Ron said in awe as he crouched behind a table.

"Not helping!" Harry snapped.

"Hey, here's an idea," Ron shouted as he dodged another spell. "Let's grab a time-turner, go back in time, and warn ourselves not to do this!"

"That won't work!" Hermione shouted as she reloaded her gun.

"Yes it-"

"No it won't! There are so many laws that would be broken by that... and I don't just mean legal laws! It can't physically be done-"

They were interrupted, however, by an explosion that rocked the cabinet that held the time turners. With a slight creaking sound, the cabinet collapsed and the time-turners crashed to the floor.

Ron sighed as he stared at the time-turners. "So much for that plan."

"It wouldn't have worked anyway, mate," Harry said. "That's not what a pocket TARDIS is for." Then he stunned an approaching Death Eater and prepared to run.

* * *

_195. In the annual battle between the Death Eaters and Harry, I will not sing "99 death eaters" as we fight._

While the gun fiasco was going on in one room, Fred, George, and Ginny were battling a few Death Eaters of their own in another... Only in a rather unique way.

"99 Death Eaters alive in the war, 99 Death Eaters alive! You shoot a spell, they hit the floor, 98 Death Eaters alive in the war. 98 Death Eaters alive in the war, 98 Death Eaters alive..." the three of them sang as they shot spells. "You shoot a spell, they hit the floor, 97 Death Eaters alive in the war! 98 Death Eaters alive in the war, 97 Death Eaters alive..."

Goyle senior was tempted to defy his master's wishes and just kill all three of them then and there, if only so they would shut up.

* * *

_196. Telling Lucius what he could do with his staff is not advisable._

Ginny and her twin brothers raced down the hall to find themselves in a room with a veil... the same room that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were currently dueling in. Lucius Malfoy noticed her almost immediately. "Blood traitor," Lucius spat, sending a spell her way.

Ginny smirked. Oh, it was _so_ on.

"You must feel under-appreciated, Malfoy," Ginny taunted. "Having to come out here and duel teenage students who are so much better at fighting than you are." In the distance, Hermione reloaded her gun for the final time.

"Nonsense," he snapped, sending a particularly nasty spell right past her ear. "I'll defeat you easily, and torture you like you deserve, blood traitor. You will feel the wrath of my staff!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You can take your staff, and shove it up your-" At that moment, Hermione started to fire again. "Oh," Ginny yelled at the blond. "By the way, I'm dating your son." Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise as Ginny stunned him with a smile.

* * *

_197. Saying "Dude, get a life" to Lord Voldemort is disrespectful and will probably get me killed._

"You're just a mere boy," Voldemort raged at Harry. The Boy Who Lived stared back at his enemy in the entrance hall to the Ministry, a look of hate upon his young face. "You'll never amount to anything. So what if I didn't get the prophecy? You didn't get it either, and now, I shall destroy you!"

Harry scoffed. _This_ was the guy's big life plans? "Dude. Get a life," he sneered before the duel began.

* * *

_198. I am not allowed to ask Lord Voldemort "Who died and made you a lord?"_

"You know," Voldemort said as Harry and the Dark Lord haphazardly shot spells at each other. "Someone tried to negotiate a peace treaty with me a few weeks ago. Yes," he nodded at Harry's disbelieving look. "They did. And while I did agree with them that killing for pure sport is wrong and the dementors are bloody creepy, and maybe sending the Dark Mark into the sky isn't the brightest idea in the world, I just would not agree to the Death Eaters losing the white masks. That was the deal-breaker," he confided.

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Oh no, not at all," Voldemort said cheerfully as he deflected Harry's stunner. "No one can tell me those masks are ugly. They are, in fact, the best part of the ensemble. I am in charge of their appearances, you know. Actually, I'm in charge of everything."

"Who died and made you lord?"

Anger etched itself onto Voldemort's face as they began attacking each other with renewed furry.

* * *

_199. Voldemort, after being defeated, did not get served._

Ron and Ginny stepped into the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic while holding a limping George between them. They found Harry on the ground as he struggled to regain control of himself; Dumbledore had his wand out, staring at the spot where Voldemort had vanished.

Hermione and Fred followed, Hermione's gun still smoking from the last shot she had fired. "Harry!" she cried, running over to him.

"Harry," Ron said, kneeling besides his friend. "Where is he? Where's You-Know-Who?"

"Gone," Harry said as he sat up. "He left."

"Awesome," Ron said with a grin. "He just got served!" Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry once again gave his best mate the finger.

* * *

_200. The four Houses are not the Morons, the Borons, the Smartarses, and the Junior Death Eaters._

"And now," Dumbledore said with a grin, addressing the Great Hall with a flourish of his wrists and a flick of his robes. "Before we adjourn for the final time this year, Harry would like to say something to you all."

Stepping up to the podium, Harry stared down at the four house tables. "This year has been... interesting. And while I hate to say I told you so..." Some of the Gryffindors laughed. "We need to all work together if we want to survive. The world is a dangerous place, and if we can't trust each other, our own classmates, then who can we trust?"

Looking down at his friends, he smiled, knowing that the six of them had just had one hell of a year together, and that with all of the mischief they had caused, they were now bonded for life. He winked at his friends, before addressing the crowd again.

"Every one of us can make a difference. We must all stick together. The Morons," he said with a glance towards his own house. "The Borons," he nodded to Hufflepuff. "The Smartarses," he faced Ravenclaw. "And the Junior Death Eaters," he said, giving a quick and reluctant glance to Slytherin.

* * *

Thanks for the reviews! Almost done! Just the epilogue to go. Thank you all so much for your support!


	22. Epilogue!

_201. When applying for a post at the Ministry of Magic after graduation, I should not cite "Fred and George Weasley" as my greatest influence at Hogwarts._

Application for a Position as an Auror at the Ministry of Magic

_Name_: Harry James Potter

_Age: _20

_Married: _Not yet

_Work Experience:_ I defeated Lord Voldemort at seventeen and helped to round up the remaining Death Eaters. If that doesn't qualify me for the job as an Auror, I don't know what does.

_Are you a Hogwarts Graduate: _Yes

_If so, what were your extra curricular activities while there: _Quidditch (both strip Quidditch and regular), the DA, the beat-boxing club, the I-Hate-Umbridge club, gambling, Gryffindor Survivor

_What's the most important thing you learned during your time in school: _Unicorns will charge when provoked, and they don't like to go into pokeballs

_Did you receive a lot of detentions during school: _Yes.

_What for:_ Umbridge hated me. Although it may also be because my friends and I dressed up as Death Eaters as an April Fools Day joke...

_Any special talents: _The _Thriller _dance. Hermione and I started the tradition of teaching the first years the _Thriller_ dance at Hogwarts. And I can Dougie. I'm also a great artist; I can duplicate the Dark Mark perfectly.

_How are you at tailing others: _Very good at it. Ron and I once stalked Malfoy for an entire night and he never caught on as to how we were doing it.

_Can you handle any insanity: _Are you kidding? All my fifth year _was,_ was insanity. The girl everyone thought I would end up with started dating my enemy, and they are currently married and expecting their first child. My best friend jumped one of my female friend's bones and told me minutes before I faced Voldemort. Said female friend became best friends with our Potions Master after hooking him up with the Transfiguration teacher, and they are still best friends to this day. Not to mention one of the twins blackmailed his brother (who had stolen his girlfriend) under the new official rule of "All's fair in love and war." Need I go on?

_Any dueling techniques we should know about: _Light saber noises are highly effective in dueling as a distraction.

_Can you adequately defend yourself: _Absolutely. In addition to the light saber noises, I finally figured out Occlumency. It took a few years, but I got it...

_Is there anything else you want us to know: _Yes. Hermione was right, guns are extremely helpful in bringing down the enemy.

_Greatest Influence and Why: _Fred and George Weasley, because without their antics, who knows what would have happened?

* * *

Thanks for the reviews! Finally, this is complete! Thank you all who have stuck by me both times. I'm so happy to have redone this story; it's so much better now. Thank you all! Over a 1000 reviews; you guys rock!


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